


Workplace Warfare

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Arguments, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Boys Kissing, Coworkers - Freeform, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Hardware Store, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, Insults, Internalized Homophobia, Karaoke, Lumber Yard, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prank Wars, Rationalizing Bad Behavior, Self-Hatred, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: Ian and Mickey might have to work together, but they don't have to get along. After a misunderstanding puts them at odds, they decided to settle their differences the mature way. With a prank war.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 51
Kudos: 223
Collections: Gallavich Prompt - Enemies To Lovers Challenge





	1. It's funny, as long as it's happening to someone else.

**Author's Note:**

> this little bit of fiction is for the #ShamelessWritingChallenge. (enemies to lovers)

Wednesday, October 15 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Ian spat, slamming his hands on the hood of his car. He turned on his heel, stomping back through the yard gate with fire in his eyes. “Milkovich, you motherfucker.” Ian barked, banging his way into the guard shack. 

“Gallagher, what is your problem this time?” Mickey sighed, glancing up from the game of Tetris he was playing on the company computer. Pinching his lip between his teeth to keep from smiling, Mickey glared at his coworker. 

This was a good one. 

“You know what my fucking problem is, you god damn degenerate.” Ian growled, stomping over to Mickey, who was now leaning back in his office chair with his feet up on the desk. “I know it was you.” 

“What are you going on about?” Mickey chuckled. “I’ve been sitting here since lunch, unless someone needs help in the yard.” 

“My fucking car is full of blown up condoms! Fucking prophylactic balloons!” Ian yelled, red-faced with anger. “One, that is a junior high prank. And two, it’s a stupid waste of condoms.” 

Mickey laughed, smirking. “Well, we don’t want you going out there in the world unprotected.” 

“This about me being gay?” Ian pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. Ian has been having issues with this fucking guy since he started working at Mac’s Discount Lumber & Hardware. Ian can’t think of any other reason for such hostility. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey balked. “Of course you would think that. Social justice warrior, the perpetual victim. No, it’s not about you being a fag.” 

Ian bristled at the word, but said nothing. Just stared at the asshole yard guy, waiting. 

Mickey smirked cruelly at his coworker. “You forget you started this shit?” 

“Are you seriously still pissed about that?” Ian balked, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you. Is your ego that fragile? It was months ago! Grow up.” 

“Looks who’s talking.” Mickey shot back. “You’re acting like some kinda innocent victim, but you’ve been hassling me right back this entire time. “It ain’t my fault you can’t admit when you’re beat.” 

“You're something else, Milkovich.” Ian glowered, taking a single step forward, clenching his fists. “I’ll never understand you. Why are you such an asshole? Can you just tell me that?” 

“Fine, fine.” Mickey chuckled once more, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s simple, Gallagher. I don’t like you, and it’s fun to fuck with you. Best part of my work day, if I'm being honest.” 

Ian stared at his coworker, his blood boiling. He’s so stupid, thinking he could reason with Mickey like a normal adult. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Ian huffed, turning on his heel and stomping out of the shack. 

“Can’t!” Mickey yelled back, still laughing. “You’ve got all my condoms!” 

*** 

Funny thing is, Ian had been so hopeful when he started this job. 

He never saw Mickey Milkovich or his stupid prank war coming... 

Monday, June 10 (four months earlier) 

“Leroy, get the fuck over to the back of the yard and help that dude load his shingles.” Mickey barked, grunting in pain as he tossed another 2X4 into Tommy’s truck. His knee was killing him. He'd need at least three beers and two joints after this shift was over. Tommy stood off to the side, not bothering to help. Lazy fucking asshole. 

Whatever. 

This is Mickey’s job. This is what he gets paid for. And he did just get a promotion and a raise, so he really can’t complain all that much. 

“Yes, boss.” Leroy called back, shooting Mickey a sloppy salute before trudging out of the warehouse and toward the back yard where the shingles are kept. 

Mickey’s been working at Mac’s for the past three years. Ever since his dad went to jail for aggravated assault and Mickey spent three weeks in the hospital. 

Honestly, Mickey should have seen it coming. He’d been expecting his dad to try to kill him ever since Mickey first discovered he was gay back in the sixth grade. He knew it was only a matter of time before he slipped up and his dad turned him into worm food. 

But still, it had been a shock. Coming home to find his father in his room, his shit tossed all over the place. Drawers pulled open, the contents of his closet strewn all over the floor. His picture frames were busted, one of his only pictures of his mom crumpled on the floor. 

On the bed, sitting innocuously enough, were all Mickey’s sex toys. His dildos and butt plugs and vibrators, all just lying there for the world to see. Even worse, the scant collection of gay porn he’d acquired over the past six years was spread out over his stained quilts. Right there in front of him, his death warrant. 

It had been a blur after that. Fists and blood, swearing and slurs. His father pulled out a pistol at some point, beating Mickey’s brains in until Iggy clamored into the room and pulled him off. 

Three weeks in the hospital. Two black eyes, fractured cheek bone, broken ribs, cracked teeth, concussion, bleeding on the brain. Bruises and contusions all over his body. Broken arm, dislocated knee, twelve stitches over his left eyebrow, and a collapsed lung. 

It was the worst beating Mickey had ever taken in his life. All at the hands of his father. 

Mickey had left home after that. He was barely eighteen, but living under the El would have been better than spending another second in Terry’s house. 

He’s spent some time at the raggedy ass homeless shelter on Mt. Vernon Street until a spot opened up in an SRO on the south side. Iggy had helped him as much as he could, still living with Terry on Trumball. Iggy’s the one who got him the job at Mac’s. A friend of a friend who worked in the sales department got Mickey an in with Mac. 

In the three years since leaving home, Mickey has built a life for himself. He’s got a small apartment to himself, down on Abigail Lane. It’s still in the south side, but it’s far enough from Terry that they barely see each other. 

The fact that his father only did three years for almost killing him is still a sore spot, and if Mickey’s being totally honest with himself, he’s still really fucking scared of the dude. Which is why he’s still in the closet. 

As far as his father knows, the porn and the toys were a onetime thing. An experiment, a lapse in judgement that Terry successfully beat out of him. 

Mandy and Iggy both know he’s queer. He'd been scared to tell them, but in the end, it had been a non-issue. Mandy had hugged him, then slapped him across the face two seconds later, irate that Mickey had kept this part of himself from them. That he’d thought his siblings would be anything like their father. 

Iggy had been easier, surprisingly. Joking with Mickey that he liked it when a girl got a finger up his ass now and again. Mickey had not needed to know that, but it was still nice to have the support of his brother. 

And things have been good since then. He has his apartment, his cat, Ruby. His brother and sister are all up in his business, and he doesn’t totally hate it. He doesn’t have friends, not really. But he’s got his buddies at work, and most of the time that’s enough. Rob and Leroy are not all that smart, but they are pretty funny and make good drinking buddies, and constantly lose money to Mickey on poker night, so that’s a plus. Tasha, the front-end girl is kinda weird, but she’s nice to Mickey and hardly ever gets on his nerves. Lee, the part time cashier, Mickey doesn’t know all that well yet. But he stays out of Mickey’s way and doesn’t irritate him too much. 

He likes hanging out with his coworkers. Unless of course Mickey intends to spend his night in Boystown. 

He makes those trips alone. Two or three times a month, he’ll head down there to get his rocks off. It always goes the same. He’ll have a few drinks, make eyes at some pretty boys. More often than not, he can get his dick sucked, or on the rarest of rare evenings, get fucked good and hard. 

It’s been a while since that happened. 

But even if he’s lucky enough to find a willing dick to bounce on, that’s as far as it ever goes. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t even do the morning after, always out the door as soon as he’s wiped the lube off his thighs. Because he’s not relationship material. And even if he was, Terry made parole about a month ago. 

His father is stalking the south side once again. And Terry has friends all over this shithole neighborhood. Hell, Terry even know Mac. They’re not friends or anything, Mac’s too decent to run with Terry. But still. One word of Mickey’s ‘lifestyle choices’ and Mickey is dead certain his father would hunt him down and finish what he started. 

Mickey’s life may not be much, but he wants to live it. He's in no rush to end up at St. Mark’s Cemetery, rotting in the ground next to his mother. And that’s what would happen if Terry ever caught wind of Mickey’s new life. As it is, he flies under the radar, keeps to himself and avoids his father at all costs. He keeps his homosexuality under wraps at work and in his building. Only his siblings and his bed partners know who and what he really is. 

So sure, he hangs out with Rob and Leroy from the store, and even Tasha and Lee sometimes. Nights at the Alibi or playing lame ass board games at Tasha’s apartment on Dufour Street. But none of those people know the real Mickey. Because one word to the wrong person, and hell could rain down on Mickey’s life all over again. The south side is a small place, everyone knows everyone. The last thing he wants is some dumb fuck with a big mouth spouting off about Mickey’s continued queerness to the wrong person. Any of that gets back to Terry, Mickey’s a dead man walking. 

Terry hasn’t come looking for him yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t if he hears something he doesn’t like through the neighborhood rumor mill. 

So Mickey keeps his head down, works his job, pays his bills. He enjoys his no-strings, anonymous, empty sex. He hangs out with Iggy and Mandy, and sometimes his idiot coworkers. 

It’s not a good life, but it could certainly be worse. 

A horn honking drags him out of his revelry. He’s not one to get lost in the past often, but he had a run in this morning with one of Terry’s dirtbag friends that brought back some old feelings he’d hoped he’d buried long ago. 

Goes to show you, shit never stays buried forever. 

The horn honks again. Mickey stands from his seat and makes his way to the Toyota Tundra parked in the warehouse. 

“Hey Billy.” Mickey greeted one of Mac’s regulars. Billy is a good guy, plasterer by trade. He’s always covered in plaster dust, from the toes of his boots to his handlebar mustache. 

“Hey Mick.” Billy hands Mickey his receipt from the store. “I’ma need ten pieces of eight-foot blue board, a fifty-pound bucket of inch and a quarter drywall screws, two bags of Unikal, and six sticks of eight-foot corner bead.” 

“Yeah, Billy, I can read.” Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. He moved to go gather Billy’s supplies, Billy following behind him, jabbering on as he watched Mickey work. 

“So, what’s up with the new kid?” Billy asked as Mickey gathered up the corner bead and trudged it over to the bed of Billy’s truck. 

“New kid?” 

“Yeah, the beefy ginger kid working the paint and decorating center? Kid's built like a prize fighter, should be over at McNaughton's Gym, knocking heads, 'steada down here slinging paint.” 

New kid? Beefy ginger? What? 

Mickey hadn’t been to the front of the store all day. He’s been busy out back since the store opened at six a.m. 

Mac didn’t say shit about a new guy starting. He especially didn’t mention a beefcake ginger. Mickey sure as fuck would remember that. 

“I don’t know shit about no new kid, Bill. I’m working, not socializing.” Mickey huffed as he and Billy worked together to get the blue board into the bed of the truck. 

Billy chuckled, shaking his head. “For such a young kid, you’re a bit of a crotchety old man.” 

“Fuck off Bill.” Mickey sighed, loading the rest of Billy’s supplies into the truck with a grimace of pain. Fuck, his knee was really swollen this morning. 

“Your customer service skills could use some work, kid.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Billy chuckled, jumping back into his truck and starting it. Before he rolled out of the warehouse, he stuck his head out of his open window, pressing a folded piece of paper to Mickey’s chest. “I almost forgot. Can you go into the store and ask that new kid at the paint counter to have my five gallons of eggshell taupe ready by closing time? My painter, Seamus will be in to pick it up.” 

“Fucking taupe? What are you, a middle-aged soccer mom?” Mickey laughed, pocketing the note. 

“No.” Billy chuckled. “But my customer is. So please, make sure my paint is ready by closing time. Me and Seamus gotta be on the north side by sun up.” 

Mickey sighed, nodding. “Sure, Billy. I’ll let ‘em know.” He supposes he going to have to meet the guy at some point, them being coworkers and all. Not like it mattered, Mickey has enough work friends, and he’s not looking to add some redheaded bodybuilder to his limited circle. 

That could only end badly. 

“Thanks Mick.” Billy grinned back, gunning the engine and peeling out of the warehouse like it was on fire. 

Mickey scoffed, shaking his head. Why did he ever go into the service industry? 

Oh, that’s right. 

Poor life choices. 

*** 

“So, that’s about all you need to know about the tint dispenser, the mixer, the matching computer. You already know how to use the register and the credit card machine. I gave you a tour of the store and explained about sales and coupons. Other than all that, I think it’s more of an on-the-job training kinda thing.” Tasha smiled, tucking a piece of her black hair behind her ear. She’s pretty, in an off-beat kinda way. Dark hair cut in a little bob, with green highlights randomly sprinkled in. She looks as goth as possible in her ‘Mac’s Hardware’ polo shirt and ripped black skinny jeans, capped off with Doc Martins with bright red laces. Her arms are covered in intricate tattoos of flowers and insects. Roses and lilies, mums and daisies. Bumble bees and dragon flies, a huge Luna Moth on her right bicep. She’s got a pierced eyebrow and about a thousand rings through both ears. Ian’s as gay as they come, but even he can admit she’s gorgeous. “Mac said you have experience with home remodeling and construction? Painting and decorating?” 

Ian smiled, feeling awkward. Sure, he had experience. Doing odd jobs around the neighborhood with Lip and Kev. But he’d never worked for a company before. Nothing official. But Mac’s Hardware didn’t seem to care about his lack of experience. Mac had been excited about his years of customer service and cash handling. Although, his work at the Kash & Grab isn’t going to be much help getting him acclimated to Mac’s Hardware. Ian spent most of his time there reading magazines and fucking his boss. 

Ew, Ian doesn’t really like to recall that time in his life. He was a stupid kid, making stupid decisions. 

And it only went downhill from there. 

After he got sick, he stopped working all together. Two years of relying on his family while he got his shit together. In and out of the psych hospital, trying and failing to get his Bipolar disorder under control. He is cautiously optimistic he’s got a handle on it now. Medication and therapy help a lot, along with his routine and the support of his family. Ian’s done a lot of bad shit in the past four years, but he’s working on rectifying that now. And the first step to that is getting this job. 

Mac had asked him a sum total of three questions when he’d interviewed him. One, are you reliable? Two, can you do basic math? And three, can you deal with stupid customers without cussing them out? 

Once Ian had answered yes to all those questions, he’d gotten the job. It almost felt too easy. But Ian needed the paycheck. He’d just moved out of his family home, got a place near Boystown with his brother. Lip was working in tech doing some crazy programming shit Ian will never understand. But he makes good money and he seems to really enjoy it. 

Lip had offered to support Ian while he went back to school. But Ian had balked at that. He’s no charity case. Even if he is sick, even if he still has swings and loses days to his depression or mania, he still wants to support himself. 

He’s even enrolled in community college, down at Malcolm X. After he got his GED, Ian knew it wasn’t enough. He wants to do something important. Something real. His options are limited due to his disorder. His dreams of the army are dust on the breeze now. He can’t work in medicine like he’d considered. But he can do the one other thing that’s always made him happy. Art. 

Ian’s loved to draw since he was old enough to hold crayons. He enjoys toying with all mediums, really, but growing up poor, the only things he could ever afford was pencil and paper. He's honed his skills over the past two decades, building himself quite a portfolio. Ian's not conceited enough to say he’s super talented, but he’s fairly confident in his abilities, and is hoping to get work as a graphic designer or an illustrator after he finishes school. That’s the plan, for now anyway. 

Life has a way of dragging you off course. 

This job is supposed to help Ian support himself while he’s in school. The hours are good and it’s close to the apartment, only twenty minutes away from Malcolm X. It’s really perfect for now. 

So he has to make a good impression. 

“Okay, well, that’s about it, I think.” Tasha smiled again. “If you wanna walk around the store, familiarize yourself with the layout. We’ll page you to the counter when you get a customer.” 

“Cool.” Ian smiled back. “Thanks Tasha.” 

“It’s no big deal. S’what I’m here for.” Tasha gave Ian a look, licked her lips with a flirty little grin. Laid a hand on his arm, squeezes gently. 

Oh shit. 

“Well, I appreciate it.” Ian replied, giving her a strained smile. He pointedly stretched to scratch the back of his neck, exposing the underside of his left arm, the short sleeve of his work polo riding up enough to expose his pride tattoo. It’s a simple rainbow bar, with the word ‘proud’ in bold block letters, with the tiny male/male symbol underneath. 

He designed it himself, and he really loves it. 

He notices the moment Tasha’s eyes catch on it. The flirty smirk melting into shock. She blushes, eyes wide. To her credit, she composes herself quickly. 

The strategic exposure of the tattoo is usually enough to out himself to eager women. It saves him from having to come out to strangers and acquaintances, saves them both the embarrassment. 

Tasha smiled again, but there is no sauciness to it anymore. It’s just a kind, friendly grin. “Welcome to the team, Ian. We all go out for drinks every Friday. This bar called The Alibi. Do you know it?” 

Ian chuckled. Of course. The south side is a small place, after all. 

“You could say that.” 

“You should join us!” Tasha insisted, seemingly taking his gayness in stride. Ian is relieved. He doesn’t want to have to deal with awkward homophobia at his new job. “We also have game nights at my house sometimes. You any good at poker or Pictionary?” 

Ian smiled again, nodding. He had no idea that the workers at this place were friendly after hours. It might be nice to make friends outside his family. Since his diagnosis, Ian’s social life has been all but non-existent. He’ll sometimes meet up with dudes from Grindr, for lame dates and mediocre sex, but as far as actual friendships go, Lip is pretty much it. 

“I know my way around a deck of cards.” 

“Awesome. Here, lemme get your number, I was thinking maybe next weekend?” 

Ian handed over his phone so Tasha could input his number. She did so quickly, then set him a text from her phone. “That’s me.” she said. “And you’re welcome to bring someone if you want. Boyfriend, or whatever?” she said it like she was testing the waters, not wanting to offend him, but curious nonetheless. 

“No boyfriend right now.” Ian replied calmly. Good, this is going well. She seems nice, and his queerness is not a deal breaker. Ian’s not so sure that will be the case with the rest of the staff, but one friend is better than none. 

“Well, that’s fine too. It’ll just be nice to have you there. We gotta work together all the time, it’d be nice if we could be friends.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Ian agreed. She'd read his mind. 

“Okay then!” Tasha smiled. “Go on and have a look around the store. Lee will be in at three for the afternoon shift. You’ll like him, he’s a good guy. The only other employees are the yard guys, and I'm sure you’ll run into ‘em sooner or later. I’ll be at the counter if you have any questions and I'll page you if you have a customer.” 

“Sure.” Ian said, stepping away. He turned back before he got to the first isle. “Hey Tasha?” 

She turned too, expectant. “Yeah?” 

“Thank you. For, you know, everything.” Ian was shit at words, but he wanted her to know that he appreciated her help, and her kindness. 

“My pleasure, Ian. I think this is gonna be great, for all of us.” 

Ian nodded, smiling. 

He had a good feeling about this. 

*** 

“Thanks, Al, have a good day.” Mickey said, tossing the last bundle of shingles into the back of Al’s minivan. 

“Any day on the roof is a shit day, Mick.” Al laughed, jumping back in his van. “But the money’s good.” 

Mickey laughed, nodding. “At least there’s that. See ya next time.” 

“Sure thing, pal.” Al replied, pulling out of the yard and heading toward the street. 

Mickey sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Okay, he’d waited long enough. He had to go in and give Billy’s order to the new guy. 

He makes his way into the guard shack, tossing back a couple 800 mg Ibuprofen for his knee and pulling out Billy’s list. He takes a sip of his now cold coffee, eyeing his lunch pail longingly. 

It’s right before lunch, and Mickey’s been busy in the yard all day. Leroy and Rob have been out back unloading delivery trucks most of the morning. Leroy and Mickey are the only two certified to run the forklift, but Rob is the strongest out of the three of them, so he does most of the grunt work. Since Mickey’s promotion to yard manager, he’s pretty much noped the fuck out of the heavy shit. Sure, he’s only in his twenties, but that beating his dad gave him left his right side weakened. The broken arm was a compound fracture, the bone shooting right out of his arm, shredding the muscles. It had been gross and hurt like a fucking bitch. Seeing his own bone protruding from his arm like that, he’d thrown up all over himself. He'd even had surgery on it, has a bunch of metal pins holding the bone together. 

Even years later, the arm is not a hundred percent. It fails him sometimes, causing him to drop shit. 

It’s embarrassing and he’d rather avoid it at work if he can. 

Not to mention the knee injury acts up now and again, swelling and leaving him limping for a few days. Like right now. 

Twenty-three years old with arthritis in his knee. Thanks dad. 

Mickey’s damaged goods. 

But Leroy and Rob never mention it. They don’t know what happened, but they do know he’s got old injuries that keep him from strenuous labor around the store. They never give him shit, and are always willing to help when he needs it. They’re good guys. 

Not that he’s gonna tell them that. 

Mickey sighed again, chugging the rest of his cold coffee before dropping the cup on his desk and heading out of the shack. 

He made his way through the double doors that separate the yard from the store. He catches sight of Tasha and Lee stocking the retail order, carts full of hammers and drop cloths and sundries as they weave through the isles putting away stock. He waves when Tasha smiles at him, nodding at Lee as he calls out a ‘Hey Mick.’ from his spot on the floor. 

The front-end people are cool. Mickey had his doubts about both Natasha and Lee when he first started. Lee’s got a weird ‘nerdy emo’ vibe, with his black skinny jeans, converse sneakers, and ridiculous black eye liner. But he’s funny and smart and kicks Mickey’s ass at Scrabble every time Tasha has one of her game nights. 

And Tasha is pretty much the only woman he likes aside from his sister. She’s sarcastic and sweet and never hits on Mickey anymore. She was pretty relentless when he first started at the store, but after Mickey told her he seriously wasn’t looking to bang, she let it go. Mickey has some worrisome suspicions that she’s figured out he’s queerer than a three-dollar bill, but she never asked and he never offered, so it sits between them, a little bubble of uncertainty. 

But Tasha has never let it affect their friendship, never made him feel uncomfortable, so Mickey takes it for the win it is, and just enjoys her company. 

Mickey got lucky working at Mac’s. Not a single one of his coworkers is an asshole. 

He’s hoping that doesn’t change when he meets this new employee. 

He makes his way over to the paint desk, wrapping his knuckles on the counter top. “Yo! New guy!” he yelled, scanning the paint department for this elusive new employee. 

“Yeah! One second.” a voice called back from down by the paint brushes. Mickey waited, drumming his fingers along the counter. He's not nervous to meet the new guy, he's just anxious to get it over with and go eat his lunch. 

All thoughts of food flew out of his head when he laid eyes on the new guy. 

Shit. 

Mickey knows him. 

This is bad. Really bad. 

*** 

Ian puts down the faux finishing kit he was looking at and makes his way back over to the counter. Standing there, in an obscenely tight Mac’s hardware t-shirt is the sexiest guy Ian’s ever seen. 

Jesus. This is bad. Very bad. 

“Hey.” Ian said, flushing red at the squeak in his voice. “I’m Ian. You work here too?” 

“Gallagher? Really?” Mickey scoffed. “I didn’t even know you still lived in the neighborhood.” 

“Um, do I know you?” Ian replied, giving the man a more thorough once-over. Ian can’t imagine forgetting a guy this sexy. His eyes alone are enough to send Ian into a gay panic. 

“You were friends with my little sister back in the day? Mandy Milkovich.” 

“Oh shit.” Ian said, gaping at the man. He hasn’t seen Mandy since the summer before tenth grade. She’d gone to live with her aunt in Milwaukee, and Ian had never seen her again. But there’s no way this dude is one of her brothers. They were all dirty and skinny and mean as fuck. And they all had light hair. “Are you sure?” Ian asked, like a fucking moron. 

“Am I sure you’re Ian Gallagher? Or am I sure Mandy is my sister?” Mickey replied, incredulous. 

“It’s just....all her brothers were blond...” Ian said, mortified that he was blushing like a god damn virgin. 

“Bleach is a thing.” Mickey replied, smirking. “I went through a phase.” 

Ian gave the guy another hard look. It clicked when the guy raised his eyebrows in an oddly menacing manner. 

“Mickey?” 

“Took you long enough, you fucking tool.” Mickey replied. Ian gaped at him, curious about his dickish attitude. “Listen, I need you to mix this up for Billy. His account info is on the sheet. His painter, Seamus O'Rourke be in to collect it before the end of business, so don’t fucking dawdle.” Mickey held out the paper, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Dawdle?” 

“Man, shut the fuck up and do your job.” Mickey replied tiredly. He has to get out of here. He can’t be this close to Ian fucking Gallagher. 

Mickey thought he’d never see him again. After Mandy escaped the Milkovich house of horrors, her little friend did the smart thing and stopped coming around. 

Few years back, rumors around the neighborhood said he’d gone batshit. Had to do some time up at the county psych ward. Mickey has wondered about him ever since then. 

Mickey won’t admit this to anyone, but he had a huge, super gay crush on Ian when they were all in high school. With his lanky limbs, goofy smile, and bright red hair. Mickey had been utterly smitten. Ian was such a damn dork, but he was also so fucking nice to his sister. Helped her when Mickey couldn’t, whether it was cleaning her up after Terry beat her face in, or helping her with her homework. Mickey had been useless. Too afraid to go up against Terry, and too stupid to help her with school. 

Ian was like Mandy’s knight in shining armor, she still spoke about him with love and devotion in her voice. 

As soon as Mickey had realized his feeling for the ginger dumbass, he’d cut off all contact. Refused to even be in the house if Mandy had Ian over. He couldn’t take that chance. Couldn’t risk slipping up. Couldn’t risk making a mistake. Couldn’t ever let on that he liked Ian, lusted after him. 

Not long after that, Mandy moved away and Ian faded into the background of the neighborhood, much to Mickey’s relief. 

He hasn’t thought about the kid in years, and here he is, in all his pale Irish glory, sent straight from hell to fuck Mickey’s shit up. 

Ian has grown right up too. Long gone are the spindly limbs and face too big for his body. Ian is fucking built. His arms are insane, his chest fit to burst out of his work shirt. Mickey doesn’t even want to know what his ass looks like. 

He doesn’t. 

As if it’s not bad enough that Ian is here, being all hot and dumb like always. But it’s common knowledge around the neighborhood that Ian is incredibly gay. Everyone knows he likes dick. Everyone knows he’s a god damn fag. 

It’s too dangerous. Too fucking tempting. 

Mickey can’t do this. He's just setting himself up for failure. 

And failure equals death for Mickey. 

“Um, okay.” Ian replied, taking the paper from Mickey’s hand. His eyes caught on the tattoos there. 

FUCK. YOU. UP. 

Jesus Christ, why is that so sexy? Ugh, Ian might have a real issue here. 

Okay, whatever. Ian hasn’t seen this guy in years, but they never had problems. This should be fine. Not like it matters that Ian had a debilitating crush on this dude for years in high school. Mickey never needs to know that Ian would spend hours at Mandy’s house, when they could have been at Ian’s, just waiting to see Mickey for a split second. 

God, Ian had been so into him. That bad boy shit really did it for him back then. Still does, if he’s being honest. 

But Mickey is straight. And he comes from the most homophobic family on the entire south side, and that is really saying something. So Ian needs to get his head on straight and do his damn job. 

It won’t help anyone if Ian gets a big gay hardon for his old high school crush. 

He’s here to work. And that’s what he’s going to do. 

“Have it ready by closing time.” Mickey calls over his shoulder, already making his way back outside. 

“Yeah, okay. Sure thing, Mick.” Ian huffed, glaring at Mickey’s retreating back. There was no reason for Mickey to treat him so coldly. 

He’s probably going to give Ian shit for being gay. 

If that’s the case, the sexy Milkovich bastard is going to have a war on his hands. 

Ian doesn’t take that crap from anyone. Not even hot boys with shitty attitudes. 

*** 

One month later. Wednesday, July 17 

“Fuck.” 

Mickey checks his hair in the mirror, angry with himself for even caring. 

He should have cancelled. Tasha would understand. He’s had to cancel before, and it’s never a big deal. Why is he doing this to himself? 

Mickey knows the answer to that question, and it has everything to do with Tasha’s perfected ‘wounded puppy look’. 

She played him like a damn fiddle, and he only has himself to blame. 

It's karaoke night down at the Alibi, and even though it’s the worst karaoke in the whole city, the crew from Mac’s always goes there instead of one of the million other bars in the city. Tasha says it’s about supporting the neighborhood, sticking to their roots. But Mickey’s suspicious it has more to do with the free drinks Kev hands out as the night drags on. 

Kev’s always been somewhat of a friend. Used to let Mickey sit and drink in the bar after his dad beat him senseless. Never asked questions or cut him off when he got too shitty. Even dragged Mickey home a time or two when he was too plastered to make his own way. 

Mickey’s reticence has nothing to do with the bar of choice, and everything to do with the guest list. 

Mickey’s been doing his best to limit the time he spends near Gallagher at work. Whenever he can, he sends Leroy or Rob into the store to coordinate with the front end. He eats lunch in his car instead of in the break room, just in case he’s on break the same time as Ian. He works with Tasha or Lee when he’s got a customer that needs both front and back end help. He does every single thing he can think of to avoid Ian Gallagher. 

And it’s worked out pretty damn well, until tonight. 

Gallagher hasn’t been to a single one of Tasha’s ‘team nights’ - as she likes to call them, since he started. Whenever Tasha’s gotten the crew together for drinking and/or board games, Ian’s begged off. Mickey had been glad, not wanting to mix Ian with drinking. Mickey doesn’t trust himself around him on a regular day. 

Add booze to the mix, and all bets are off. 

But he can’t say no. Not to Tasha. So here he is, fucking with his hair and stressing the fuck out over some asshole he knew years ago. 

This is why he doesn’t fuck with people he knows. This is why he refuses to catch feelings or date. Because of this shit right here. Mickey can’t afford to get all spun on some dude. Not when Terry is roaming the streets. 

He needs to shut this shit down. 

So why is he even going out tonight? 

God, he’s lost his damn mind. 

Mickey castigates himself the whole way to the bar. Walking down the street, regretting every decision that led him to this moment. He can’t hang out with Gallagher. It's going to end badly. Either Mickey is going to do something dumb, like kiss the bastard, or he’s going to do something worse, like start a fight. 

There is no other option. 

Mickey knows all this, and still he walks into the bar like he owns it, striding up to the counter and wrapping his knuckles on the bar top. “Kev!” As he waits for Kev to appear, he scans the bar. He sees some regulars he’s known forever. Tommy and Kermit at the end of the bar, screaming at the TV mounted to the wall. Big Bertha in a booth by the bathroom, drinking alone as usual. Morty, some batshit crazy ‘Nam vet over by the juke box, talking quietly with Mel, a middle-aged neighborhood lady everyone knows is a hooker. 

Life might change, but the Alibi never does. 

He catches sight of his coworkers, over in a booth by the makeshift stage. The karaoke machine is set up, the big flat screen already displaying the start menu. Tasha and Lee look pretty damn stupid. Lee is wearing leather pants and a silk blouse covered in flowers, mascara and dark eyeliner smeared all over his lids. If Mickey hadn’t met his girlfriend, Mickey would have guessed he was gay. 

Tasha is wearing one of those 50’s throwback dresses with the big poufy skirts and capped sleeves, white with little green polka dots on it. The dots on her dress matches the streaks in her hair perfectly, making Mickey roll his eyes at her absurdity. She’s clearly over dressed for the Alibi, but no one is going to tell her that. He hair is pinned back from her face with little clips, heart-shaped and glittery. Her face is made up like one of those old-school pin-up girls, with the crazy eyeliner and heavy eye shadow, bright pink lips looking super glossy. 

Mickey doesn’t get it, but Tasha likes to dress up, and he’s not gonna say a damn word about it. She spends all her work days in jeans and a that stupid polo shirt. If she wants to go all out on off-nights, Mickey’s not gonna make her feel weird about it. 

Rob and Leroy both look a little homeless, in comparison. Rob is wearing paint splattered jeans and a holey Bears hoodie. Leroy is rocking a NASA t-shirt that looks like it came from Good Will, and god damn sweat pants. 

Mickey, for his part, feels a bit over dressed. He's worried his coworkers will notice the obvious work he’s put into this night, when he usually shows up dressed more like Rob, looking slightly dirty and defiantly poor. 

Mickey is wearing is best pair of jeans, tight in all the right places, hugging his thighs and ass like a second skin. He also wore his usual ‘fuck me’ shirt, the one he likes to wear to the club when he’s looking to bang. Black button up with silver cuffs, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He always feels sexy as fuck when he rocks this outfit. 

He doesn’t want to think about why he put so much effort into his look tonight. 

He’s being an idiot. 

“Hey Mickey, here for karaoke?” Kev says, finally appearing behind the bar. “The usual?” 

“Yeah.” Mickey nodded, “and start a tab for me, will ya?” 

“Sure man, one whiskey, one Old Style and one tab. You want me to put a song on the list for ya?” Kev replied, pouring the beer. 

“Nah man. I’m gonna ask those assholes first.” he pointed to his coworkers, drinking and making a ruckus on the other side of the bar. 

“Sure thing, man.” Kev laughed, passing over the shot. Mickey tossed it back, leaving the glass on the bar top as he grabbed his beer and made his way over to his friends. Ian was nowhere to be seen, and Mickey was cautiously optimistic that meant he’d bailed again. 

It was bad enough Mickey had to deal with him at work, he’s not sure how he’d survive Ian out in the real world. 

“Hey Mick.” Leroy said, scooting over so Mickey could slide into the booth. It was a tight squeeze; someone should probably bring a chair over. The rest of the crew greeted him, and he smiled and said hello, sipping his beer. 

“So, what’s the deal?” Mickey asked, “Who’s going first?” 

The crew dissolved into a heated argument over song choice and all other manner of pointless bullshit, drinking and laughing as they wait for their turn on the karaoke machine. No one wants to hear Kermit singing ‘When Doves Cry.’ - but that is just how things go on karaoke night at the Alibi. About an hour goes by, Mickey and his friends getting more and more tipsy. It’s almost Tasha’s turn. She’s picked some Sheryl Crow song Mickey’s never heard of. Mickey’s going next, doing one of his old favorites, Hell’s Bells by AC/DC. 

The crew is laughing outright while Mel belts out ‘Whatta Man’ by flippin’ Salt n Pepa. So lost in the hilarity of the moment that they totally miss Ian walking in. 

“I’m just saying, that dancing...” Roy laughed, motioning toward Mel’s gyrating body. 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Ian said, startling the group. He’s giving Roy a smile, shaking his head. “Mel there gives Double-bag Bev a run for her money in the VD department.” 

“You know Bev?” Leroy chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I grew up here too, you know.” Ian laughed, pulling a chair over to the end of the booth and dropping his beer on the table. “Hell, my idiot father let Bev rent a room in our house for a while there. Imagine sharing a bathroom with her.” 

“Fuck, man.” Tasha giggled, sipping her rum and coke. “I always forget that Frank Gallagher is your dad.” 

“I’d like to forget too.” Ian admitted, only half joking. "Sorry I was late, I had to run down to help my brother with something at my family home. Carl might be an adult now, but he still sets more fires than I'm comfortable with.” 

“Your brother set your house on fire?” Leroy laughed, incredulous. Ian could feel himself blushing with embarrassment. He could see Mickey watching him out of the corner of his eyes, smirking. The jerk. 

“Not really. He had an accident with a Fry Baby. Coulda happened to anybody.” Ian defended, feeling oddly protective of his younger brother. 

“Sure thing, Ian. Could have happened to anybody.” Lee laughed, slapping Ian’s shoulder. 

“So, what’s the lineup for karaoke?” Ian asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from his family and onto safer topics. 

Tasha and Leroy give him the rundown of song choice and order of performance. Ian listens, but is only half paying attention. 

Mickey looks so damn good. Ian’s never seen him so cleaned up. He’s sitting down, so Ian can’t really appreciate the entire picture, but that shirt he’s wearing is just tight enough to hint at the muscle underneath. His biceps are bulging out of those rolled-up sleeves, the vulgar tattoos on his knuckles drawing Ian’s attention as Mickey brings his beer to his lips. Then it’s a whole separate problem, because Mickey’s lips are otherworldly. Pink and plump and so damn biteable. After that, Ian’s eyes travel up to take in the rest of his face. Mickey’s got a strong jaw, gorgeous black hair, and ice blue eyes that cut Ian right to the bone. 

Of course, Ian’s known Mickey was sexy since high school. He just hasn’t allowed himself to think of it since he started at the store. Ian’s not stupid, he knows Mickey’s been avoiding him since he started at Mac’s. Ian knows why too. A couple weeks after he started, Ian had been chatting with Tasha at the paint counter about hot celebrities. Ian was waxing poetic about Chris Evan’s muscular chest when Mickey walked in and yelled at the both of them to keep it professional before glaring at Ian and telling him it might be in his own best interest to keep his ‘homo bullshit’ to a minimum. 

Ian had been livid, gone straight to Mac to complain. He’s no snitch, but Ian refuses to be gay bashed at his own place of employment. He’d been expecting Mickey to get suspended, or even fired, which he’d had mixed feelings about. But Ian refuses to be bullied. 

Imagine Ian’s surprise when Mac had only made Mickey watch an HR video about acceptance in the workplace. That was a while ago now, and Ian has barely seen Mickey at work. Ian’s sure Mac told Mickey to keep his distance, and that’s just fine with Ian. 

No matter how sexy Mickey is, Ian wants nothing to do with a guy that homophobic. 

Which makes this karaoke night all the more awkward. 

“Natasha?” Kev calls out, reviewing his list. Tasha jumps up, grinning as she makes her way toward the makeshift stage. 

Ian watches as ‘If it Makes You Happy’ starts up on the screen and Tasha starts singing. She’s got a surprisingly nice voice, and Ian loses himself in the song, grinning. 

That is until Mickey opens his stupid mouth. 

Stupid gorgeous mouth, but stupid nonetheless. 

“What made you decide to grace us with your presence this evening, Gallagher? You run outta barely legal twinks to fuck down at the queer bars?” 

Leroy and Rob smile, but don’t add anything, laughing into their beers like Beavis and Butthead come to life. 

Ian glared at Mickey. He’d hoped that this evening could maybe be a new start, Ian maybe finally integrating into this friendly group of coworkers. But if this is the first thing Mickey’s going to say to him, maybe Ian was being naive. 

“Milkovich, you gotta problem with me being gay? You’ve been a total dick to me since I started at the store.” 

“No.” Mickey shook his head, smirking. “Just an honest question. You never bother coming around for these things. I just figured you spent all your time doing drag or cage dancing or whatever it is that you people do in your free time.” 

“You people?” Ian balked, growing angrier by the second. 

“C’mon Mick.” Leroy said, laying a hand on Mickey’s arm. “Give the kid a break.” 

“Yeah dude.” Rob agreed. “Who gives a shit if Ian likes to wear a dress on his days off. It doesn’t matter.” 

“I don’t wear dresses.” Ian sighed, sipping his beer. He knows Leroy and Rob are trying to help, but it’s clear to Ian neither of them have any gay friends. 

“Whatever man.” Mickey scoffed. “You don’t gotta be so sensitive, or does that come with being queer?” Mickey hates this. Why is he acting this way? He bites the inside of his lip to keep himself from spewing more ignorance out of his mouth. 

It’s just, he really likes Ian. He's sexy as fuck, and from what little he’s heard him say around the store, (He’s not eavesdropping. He works there, he hears shit. So the fuck what?) he’s smart and funny, sarcastic as hell and really sweet. Tasha can’t stop gushing about how great he is. 

Seems like Ian hasn’t changed all that much since high school. 

The problem is, neither has Mickey. He’s still just a closeted punk who can’t have anything he wants. Still angry and anxious. Still afraid of his father. Still afraid to be himself. 

Ian brings out all these nasty feelings, forcing Mickey to examine shit he’d rather forget. And it pisses him off. The unfairness of it all just grates Mickey to the bone. 

So he does what he always does. He lashes out. 

“Leroy, man, you’re up.” Kev calls from the bar. Leroy smirks, jumping up from his seat just as Tasha meanders back over. 

‘Ice Ice, Baby’ starts over the speakers, and Leroy starts up the running man to go with his atrocious rapping. Making a total fool of himself all over the stage. 

Ian chuckled, but looked away, glancing up at Tasha as she sits down again. 

“You did great.” Ian smiles, holding his hand up for a high five. 

“Thanks man.” Tasha says, high-fiving Ian while downing the last of her drink. “Shit.” she stares mournfully at the empty pint glass. 

“I’ll grab another round.” Ian says, a sudden idea hitting him. 

He’ll show Mickey what a fag can really do. 

“Thanks, Ian.” Tasha says. “That’s real nice of you.” 

“Yeah, Gallagher.” Mickey smirks, eyebrows raised. “Super sweet.” 

Ian huffs but doesn’t say anything, sliding out of the booth and heading toward the bar. 

“Mickey, what the hell?” Tasha says, smacking Mickey on the arm. 

“Ow! What the fuck, Tash?” Mickey growled, rubbing his arm. Girl hits fucking hard. 

“Why you gotta be a dick to him? What did he ever do to you? You really that much of a nasty homophobe?” Tasha looks sad and angry. Disappointed in Mickey. Mickey hates it. But he can’t think of any other way to act. It’s either push Ian away, or lose himself entirely to his faggy feelings. And that just can’t happen. 

“Forget about it. It’s nothing.” Mickey huffed, moving as far away as the bench will allow. A few minutes later Ian comes back with beers for Tasha, Mickey and himself. Mickey takes the beer, but refuses to say thank you. He can’t be civil, that will only lead him to his own demise. 

Tasha sips her beer, chatting with Ian about some show on Netflix they’re both watching. Mickey makes a mental note to check it out. Ian has unfortunately great taste in TV from what little Mickey’s heard around the store. He takes a sip of his beer, considering what song he’s going to sing for the next round of karaoke. 

“Oh, what the fuck!” Mickey yelps, spitting beer all over the table. It sprays down the front of his ‘fuck me’ shirt, soaking his pants. “Kev!” he yelps, standing from the table. “What the fuck was in that beer?” 

“Huh?” Kev calls back, looking utterly bewildered. 

“Oh, that may have been me.” Ian said, giving Mickey the most disdainful look he’s ever been on the receiving end of. “You’re so goddamn salty, I figured a little vinegar would mix quite well.” 

Mickey glares at him, glancing back over to the bar, catching sight of the bottle of malt vinegar people put on their fries. 

“Man, fuck you.” Mickey growls, standing from the table. “You made me spill beer all over myself, you dick.” 

“Oh, poor Mickey.” Ian soothes, all false sympathy. “You better go on home and soak that shirt. You don’t want to ruin the one good outfit you can afford. How will you ever bang any nasty skanks if you don’t look the part?” 

Mickey feels really hurt. Actually hurt, inside. He knows he’s been picking on Ian, but he was only doing it to keep a healthy distance between them, for both their safeties. But if Ian’s gonna be a dick about it, Mickey will be a dick right back. 

“You’re gonna pay for this, you stupid Irish prick.” Mickey growled, slamming some wet bills down on the table to cover his debt before storming away from the table. 

He can hear Natasha calling his name, but he needs to get the fuck outta there. She catches up to him outside the bar. 

“Mickey!” she grabs his arm, swinging him around on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?” 

“I just wanna go home, Tash.” Mickey said, sounding sullen, even to his own ears. 

“What’s up with you and Ian?” she pressed, not letting go of his arm. 

“We just don’t like each other.” Mickey insisted. “And that’s just fine. Ian thinks he’s won, but he’s gonna fucking pay. You don’t fuck with a Milkovich and get away with it.” 

“Mick, you can’t hurt him.” Tasha said, her eyes wide with fear. 

“Who said anything about hurting him?” Mickey replied, smiling just a bit evilly. “He pranked me. Vinegar in my beer.” Mickey scoffed, shaking his head. “Juvenile bullshit, but that’s fine. He wants a war, he’s got one. No one pranks like a Milkovich. Ian’s gonna wish he was never born.” 

“Mickey, I was thinking more along the lines of, like, talking to him? Working it out?” 

“Fuck that.” Mickey barked, finally breaking free of her hold. “I was trying to be nice. Steer clear of him, so we could work together like adults. But you had to keep pushing. And here we are.” 

“To be fair, you were saying some pretty homophobic shit to him in there.” Tasha replied carefully. 

“I don’t give a shit who gets his dick hard.” Mickey huffed, even though he really did. He wished Ian got hard for him. But that was a pipe dream at best, a suicide plot at worst. 

God, why did Gallagher have to come into his life and fuck him up so hard? 

As if to prove Mickey’s point, Terry walked by with Uncle Ronnie. Just walked right by them, down the street like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t Mickey’s worst nightmare, just strolling by without a care in the world. 

It was clear Terry was fucked up. He was talking loudly, leaning on Uncle Ronnie, going off about some Russian bitch he’s fucking. Mickey’s heart stops, his whole body breaking out in goosebumps as he turns his face just in time to go unnoticed. It’s been years since Terry’s seen him, and he looks different now. Hopefully it’s enough. 

He doesn’t want to end up in the hospital tonight. 

Terry and Ronnie turn the corner, and Mickey releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

“Mick?” Tasha said, touching his shoulder. Mickey flinched, then tried to give his friend a smile. 

“I’m just gonna go. I’m all sticky now, and I don’t wanna ruin you guys’ night any worse than I already did.” 

“You’re gonna let shit with Ian go?” Tasha pressed, hopeful. 

“Oh, fuck no.” Mickey replied, grim determination in his voice. “He’s gonna pay.” 

Tasha sighed, realizing it was pointless to try and talk to Mickey when he was wound up like this. Hopefully he’ll change his mind in the morning. 

She doesn’t want to think of what would happen at Mac’s if those two really got into it. 

“Get home safe.” Tasha calls to him as he walks away. 

Mickey flips her off over his shoulder grinning to himself as she cusses him out the whole way down the street. 

Ian may not know it yet, but he fucked up good. 

And Mickey is going to make him sorry he was ever born. 

*** 

Ian looks up as Tasha walks back into the bar. Leroy and Rob are playing pool, having decided that if Mickey was gone, karaoke night was officially over. 

“Did he really leave?” Ian laughed. “What a baby, it was a stupid joke.” Ian felt a little bit bad, but not bad enough to apologize. Mickey brought it on himself, being a homophobic dickhead. Ian doesn’t take that shit, not even from brooding sexy bad boys. 

Ian spent enough of his life getting walked all over. He's not doing it ever again. 

“He’s a tough nut to crack, but real sweet once you get to know him.” Tasha said, sipping her newest drink. 

“I don’t think we’ll ever get to that point.” Ian replied, feeling somewhat sad about that revelation. “I think we’ll be lucky if we don’t come to blows.” 

Tasha thought about Mickey’s prank war declaration outside the bar, but decided not to mention it. There was a good chance Mickey would calm down over the weekend and decide that a workplace prank war was a really, really bad idea. 

“You never know.” she said instead. “He could surprise you.” 

Ian chuckled humorlessly. People like Mickey never surprised him, they were always the same. 

“I doubt that.” 

*** 

October 19. Current day: 

“Ian, you gotta stop this shit.” Lee said, but he was smiling. Ian knew for a fact Lee found the prank war hilarious. It’s been going on for months now, ever since the karaoke night gone bad. “I’m surprised Mac hasn’t fired the both of you.” 

“Whatever, Lee.” Ian huffed, hammering down the lid on a gallon of paint and putting it in the shaker. He set the timer and turned to his friend. “Mac doesn’t give a shit. We both get our work done, there are no customer complaints.” 

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Lee interjected. “Mickey got sent home.” 

“Well, at least I don’t have any customer complaints.” Ian replied, smug as hell. 

“IThat is also a lie.” Lee replied, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Whatever.” Ian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s better than me punching Mickey in the face, like I wanna do most of the time. You guys should be grateful we haven’t drawn blood yet.” 

“Can’t you guys just, like, talk it out?” Lee suggested quietly. Lee is at a loss with these two. He’s never seen a prank war like this outside of reruns of The Office. It’s insanely unprofessional, even if it keeps him laughing most days. “This is getting a little ridiculous.” 

“It’s not that big a deal.” Ian insisted, thinking back on the past six months of increasingly outlandish pranks. 

It has started innocently enough back in July, the Monday after the karaoke night beer debacle. Ian had come into open the store like he always did. Tasha was in the office, counting the drawers out, Lee was sweeping out the front parking lot, picking up litter. Ian had seen Mickey’s car out back, along with Rob’s. Leroy was off, so it was just the four of them until Mac came in around noon. 

Ian had walked over to the paint station and dropped his lunch right on the floor, gasping in shock. 

He’d sworn a blue streak at the sight of all his office supplies encased in lime Jello. His Batman stapler Lip had bought him for his birthday, all his pens and markers, all the tools he used to mix the paint. His hammer and his openers, even his color books and swatch collections. All his paper clips and office supplies. Even the family photo he kept framed on his desk. 

It had taken him an hour to get the Jello off everything. Thank god Mickey at least had the decency to wrap the paper items in ziplock bags before pulling his little stunt. 

The first shot had been fired. The prank war was on... 

Because of course, Ian had to retaliate. 

He’d glued thumbtacks to the toilet seat in the yard guys' bathroom. Mickey was horribly predictable, using the toilet every day right before lunch. God, Ian will never forget the murderous look he gave Ian as he limped out of the bathroom, holding his ass with both hands. If Ian looked really closely, (which he did NOT, thank you very much.) he would have seen tiny spots of blood all over Mickey’s worn blue jeans. 

It had honestly gotten Ian a little bit hot. Mickey’s murder glare, coupled with the thought of Mickey’s pert little ass all swollen and bloody, full of little holes from the tacks. 

Hey, no one ever said Ian was all that healthy, mentally. 

Ian had stupidly thought he’d won after that little stunt. It seemed like the perfect end to this little battle they’d had going on. Ian got Mickey, then Mickey got Ian. Now Ian had the final say, and it was over. 

How fucking wrong he was. 

After that, Mickey had put an airhorn under Ian’s office chair. When Ian had sat down, the horn blared, an ear-splitting sound that had startled everyone in the whole store. Ian had jumped so high, he spilt his iced latte all down the front of his body. He’d soaked his work polo and jeans, freezing cold coffee seeping into his bones, leaving his skin sticky and gross. 

He’d had to leave work early that day, take the loss in hours and loss in pay, since he didn’t have the PTO to cover the time yet. 

God, had been Ian enraged. 

Mickey had been standing in the parking lot as Ian hobbled to his car, sipping his own iced coffee and giggling like a little girl as Ian tried to get into his car without getting coffee on everything. 

“Yeah, fuck you too, Milkovich.” Ian had yelled, starting his car. Mickey had just saluted him with his coffee, smirking at Ian the whole way out of the parking lot. 

Ian got him back soon enough, though. 

He’d had Lip help him out. One of his rich friends had been re-sodding his yard, so Lip got Ian some of the leftover sod, and he and Ian had spent hours after Mac’s closed, sodding the whole interior of the yard shack. 

Ian had been waiting outside with his phone ready when Mickey got to work the next morning. The video of Mickey cursing and screaming about the mess was Ian’s favorite video ever. He watches it all the time, just to see Mickey’s face, red with anger. 

That’s the only reason. It’s not like Ian thinks Mickey’s adorable when he’s all pissy. No matter how sexy Mickey is, he’s a massive dick, and Ian can’t stand him. It’s just nice to relive the moment of his victory over his work nemesis. 

Of course, that victory was short lived. Ian got called into Mac’s office the following week. He’d been down back, stocking drawer pulls and contact paper, when Mac called him over to tell him a customer had complained about his computer’s screen saver. Ian had rushed over to his desk, only to find a collage of nearly pornographic Chris Evans photos on a loop on his monitor. 

Fucking Mickey. 

Ian had told Mac it was Mickey’s doing. Mac said he didn’t give a shit, just get rid of it. 

After that, things went a little sideways. Ian was livid that Mickey was bringing customers and Mac into the war. That was un-fucking-cool. So of course, Ian upped the anti. 

Ian had wrapped Mickey’s car in cling wrap. Layers and layers of the stuff, even adding some lithium grease to the mix, just to make it nasty to touch. He waited until they had a really long day at work, when he knew that Mickey would be dead on his feet and desperate to get home. 

He’d waited by his car for Mickey to come out, just so he could film his reaction. (for later gloating, nothing more) and Mickey had flipped his shit in spectacular fashion. Screaming at Ian that he had plans that night and Ian had fucked it all up. 

Ian had chuckled, asking Mickey innocently if he wanted a ride home. 

He’d been sure Mickey was gonna lay him out for that one. But the dude just pulled a box cutter from his pocket, so he could free his car from its plastic prison. Ian stood there for the whole twenty mintues it took Mickey to remove all the plastic wrap. The other man was sweating and swearing by the time it was over, covered head to toe in lithium grease. Mickey had stalked right over to him, fisting Ian’s shirt and dragging him down so they were eye level. Mickey had growled, using his free hand to smear grease all over Ian’s face, telling him in no uncertain terms to go fuck off and die. 

Even though Mickey had ruined Ian’s work shirt, it had been well worth it. 

Then, Mickey pulled the condom trick last Monday, and Ian had to spend forty-five minutes popping all the damn condoms and throwing them out. Not only was it a massive waste of time for Ian, but there was fucking spermicide all over his car’s interior after that. 

Ian was fucking done with this shit. He retaliated the very next day. He asked Carl for help with this one. They’d gone up to the storage area above the store and flipped the breaker for the yard shack. The dudes outside spent an entire shift with no power. Having to write everything down instead of using their computer. It was petty as fuck and Ian felt bad for Rob and Leroy, but not for Mickey. Cuz fuck him. 

Ian had innocently offered to go check the breaker, and when the shack got all its power back, Mac lauded Ian as a hero. But god, if looks could kill, the glare Mickey shot him would have left Ian a pile of smoldering ashes. 

Once again, Ian, the idiot, thought he’d finally beat Mickey. But he’d sorely underestimated Mickey’s desire to win, and innate evil. 

Not even forty eight hours later, Mickey struck back. 

It had started right after breakfast Wednesday with weird phone calls requesting Ian as a stripper. He thought it might have been a mistake, since he did dance for a hot minute back when he first got sick. But how would any of these strangers know that? The phone calls kept coming all morning until Ian finally turned his phone off, totally stumped as to why this was happening to him now. 

That is until he got to work, and found a flier up on the telephone poll outside the store. There was a picture of a shirtless Ian, taken from his Facebook page, with his personal phone number underneath along with this message: 

For the best male stripper this side of Chicago, call Ian Gallagher. (male customers preferred, but will dance for anyone for the right payday) 

Ian had been fucking irate. Giving out his personal phone number like that? Using his own social media account? Mickey had crossed a fucking line. He’d stormed into the building, ready for fucking war, where he was met by Mac, looking pissed the fuck off, as well as a contrite looking Lee and a grumpy Tasha. None of the yard guys were anywhere to be found. 

Ian had learned Mac sent Mickey home, pissed off that he’d used the company’s copier to make the fliers. Lee’s big mouth got Mickey found out. Mac had made Ian promise not to retaliate. Made Ian swear he wouldn’t do anything like what Mickey did. 

It was an easy promise to make. Ian’s not an utter douchenozzle like Mickey is. He’d never put Mickey’s personal information out there like that. 

But that didn’t mean Ian was going to let him win. He could still beat Mickey without having to embarrass him so publicly. He could ruin Mickey just fine with only an audience of four. 

Because Ian knew Mickey’s one weakness. The one thing that bothered him the most, made him the most uncomfortable. And Ian was fairly certain Mickey would be too embarrassed to even go to Mac with a complaint. 

This shit had been going on for months now, and Ian was finally going to deliver the death blow. 

Oh, this was gonna be good.


	2. All's fair in love and war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian thinks he's come up with the ultimate prank. The one to end the war with Mickey. He's so proud of his plan, he doesn't bother to consider the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is significantly shorter, as is the final chapter. i just felt like these were natural places to suspend the action. please bear with me. thanks for reading.

Ian’s so excited. This is the prank that will finally shut Mickey up for good. He’ll be so embarrassed, and as long as everyone sees it like Ian is planning, Mickey will be too uncomfortable to keep up this bullshit anymore. Winning isn’t even important to Ian anymore. He just wants this shit to end. 

Well, winning is kind of important. 

The worst part of all is that Ian truly believed that if Mickey weren’t such a homophobic asshole, they could have at least been civil coworkers, if not friends. They have a lot in common, and they both get along with all their other coworkers really well. 

Ian won't even acknowledge that little part of him that's attracted to Mickey. To pile that madness on top of all this other bullshit would just send Ian off the deep end. Ian has always fallen for wildly inappropriate men, so it's no surprise he is so drawn to Mickey. But any way you slice it, Ian is a moron. Mickey is the kinda guy that would punch Ian's teeth down his throat if his eyes lingered a little too long on his pert little ass. 

No. Stop that. Mickey is the enemy. He's an intolerant asshole. 

It’s not like Ian can really blame Mickey. He knows how he grew up. Mandy told him all kinds of stuff. Really bad, horrific shit that their father did to them both. He knows Mickey grew up in a house full of hate and nasty rhetoric against minorities. 

But Mickey’s a grown ass man now, and that ‘bad childhood’ shit can only carry you so far. Mickey should have grown his own opinions and beliefs long ago. And if he really does believe that racist, homophobic shit Terry Milkovich was always spouting, then Ian doesn’t want to be his friend anyway. 

So maybe this prank has a little bit to do with how Mickey’s made him feel since starting at Mac’s. With his snide comments and rude gestures. Making Ian feel like he’s sixteen again. Not ashamed of who he is, but worried about how others see him. It’s a gross feeling, and Ian’s had quite enough. 

He’s hoping to shame Mickey into leaving him alone. Of course, this will be the end of any possibility of civility between them, but Ian thinks Mickey burned that bridge already. 

Mickey’s not due in until nine this morning. Ian’s already set up the prank. He’d spent a fair amount of money on this one, but he’s sure Mickey’s reaction will be worth it. Besides, he’ll just take all the shit home with him after, no need for it to all go to waste. 

The prank is set, now he just needed to get everyone over there in time to witness it. 

“Hey guys, I bought donuts.” Ian said, trying to sound as normal as possible while he was cracking up inside. “I’m gonna bring ‘em over to the guard shack and we can all have some, huh? Tell Mac we’re going out back for a second.” 

“Oh!” Lee crowed. “Donuts! C’mon Tasha! Donuts!” 

“I’m coming, relax.” Tasha called back, saving the order she was working on and follow the men out to the yard. Rob and Leroy were just finishing up loading some bags of fertilizer into a lady’s minivan. 

“Guys, donuts.” Lee called, hightailing past the two yard workers and busting into the guard shack. 

“Did he say donuts??” Rob asked, already making his way over. 

“I brought ‘em.” Ian said, excitement bubbling up inside him. This was it. He was gonna beat Mickey finally. Put an end to this shit Mickey started with his smart mouth and stupid comments. He’d teach Mickey what happens when you insult a Gallagher. 

The crew burst into Mickey’s guard shack, already salivating for the promised donuts. They all know Ian only gets them From Lilian’s Café, and they have the best donuts in all of Chicago. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey barks as the entire staff of Mac’s converges on his space. He just fucking got here, only just took his coat off. What could these assholes want? 

“Mick! Ian brought donuts.” Lee said, making a bee line for the box, which was sitting on the table by the window. 

“Did he now?” Mickey asked, already suspicious. Ian hadn’t pulled any pranks on him since the Stripper Flier. Mickey had thought maybe he’d gone too far. He hadn’t known anything about Ian’s history as a stripper, but Mandy had chewed him the fuck out when he told her about the prank. She refused to say why, but she did tell him that the stripping was a sore spot for Ian, and it was mean of Mickey to do that. 

How the fuck was Mickey supposed to know? And how did Mandy know? As far as Mickey knew, his sister hadn’t talked to Gallagher since school. 

Regardless, it’s not like he went out of his way to make Ian feel shitty. It was just a joke. And Ian had so many shirtless pictures of himself on his public Facebook page, he was honestly asking for something like that to happen. 

Right. Yes. 

Besides, it won Mickey the prank war. Now Ian knew not to fuck with him. He’d keep to himself, maybe not come to any more of Tasha’s group events. Maybe he’d give Mickey some room to breathe. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t WANT to hate Ian. He really didn’t. He was funny and really nice when he’s not pulling asshole pranks, but Mickey can’t like him. It’s too fucking dangerous. And honestly, Mickey kinda hates him for making him feel this way. 

Mickey’s life had been simple. Work, mediocre friendships with his crazy colleagues, chillin’ with his equally crazy siblings, random hook-ups with men he never remembers by the end of the week. It wasn’t great, but it was safe. 

Then Ian comes along and blows it all to shit. Suddenly, Mickey’s thinking all kinds of crazy, stupid shit. Like, what would it be like to have a real boyfriend? What if that boyfriend was Ian? Would he be sweet? Would he take Mickey out, try to show him off? Would Mickey be embarrassed, but secretly love it? Would the sex be incredible? 

Of fucking course it would. 

And that’s why Mickey hates him. For making Mickey want shit he can never have. Shit he’ll never deserve or even know what to do with if he found it. 

Ian made Mickey want. And Mickey fucking hates him for it. 

But none of that shit matters. It’s over now. Mickey won, and Ian’s come to concede his loss with Defeat Donuts. 

Mickey’s not gonna say no to that. 

Lee opened the box, his eyes greedily soaking in the delicious confections. 

“Mickey, there still napkins in your drawer?” Tasha asked, doing Ian’s work for him. Ian tried to stifle his smile as Mickey opened the drawer and gasped, dropping his donut right on the floor. 

“What the fuck?” 

Everyone in the room turned to look, and there it was, Ian’s final nail in the coffin of this godawful prank war. 

“Holy shit, Mickey. I had no idea you got down like that.” Rob chuckled, walking over to inspect the mess Ian had left in his drawer. 

Every single super gay, super kinky sex toy Ian could find online. It has cost him an arm and a leg, especially with overnight shipping. But the stricken, sick look on Mickey’s face was totally worth it. 

Mickey jumped out of his chair, plastering his back against the wall of the shack, looking ready to vomit. Of course, that only meant everyone else had a better view now. 

There were realistic looking dildos, butt plugs, tons of silicone lube. Ian had packed nipple clamps and prostate toys, a tiny bit of BDSM shit like pink fuzzy handcuffs and a matching pink, sparkly ball gag. A pink collar with a heart tag, and one of those jeweled plugs with the little pink crystal heart in the handle. Cock rings and a Fleshlight. A wooden paddle with BRAT carved into the wood, a red leather flogger. Even a set of anal trainers called ‘Gay Boy’s Best Friend.’ Sure, not all of this shit was for gay guys, but men like Mickey and the yard guys saw a butt plug and only thought one thing. 

FAG. 

“Oh my, Mickey.” Ian chuckled, smirking. “I had no idea you swung that way.” 

“Yeah, Mick.” Leroy laughed along. “You coulda told us you were a Mary.” 

Rob chuckled, picking up the butt plug and inspecting it. “No shame, Mick. I heard some straight guys are into ass play.” Rob didn’t sound convinced, and he was still giggling. 

“Yeah fucking right, bro.” Leroy chortled, pointing. “No self-respecting straight man uses a pink ball gag. What kinda shit?” he picked up the anal trainers and gagged, dropping it back in the drawer. “What the fuck? I don’t even wanna know.” 

“It ain’t mine!” Mickey yelled. His face was hot, it was getting hard to breathe. He could feel the burn of tears in his eyes. Fucking mortifying. The shack was too small. His eyes flitted across the room. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone was looking. 

Everyone knew. 

“I ain’t no fucking fag.” Mickey said, voice low and deadly as he turned to Ian. “You did this shit.” he growled. 

“Now why would you think that?” Ian smirked. “You won the war, remember? With your shitty stripper flyers?” 

“This shit isn’t mine.” Mickey ground out, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't fucking breath. Everything was narrowed down, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the eyes burning holes into his skin. His old injuries flare in phantom pain, like he's taking the beating all over again. 

Mickey's panting, his whole body tingling with anxiety. He swears he can hear his father's voice in his head. 

Faggot.  
Ass reamer.  
I'll fucking kill you. 

He looked to Tasha and Lee, who were not laughing. They both looked like they regretted coming for donuts. 

Like they knew how this was going to end. 

“Awe, come on, Mick.” Ian laughed, stepping closer. Mickey took a step back, but had nowhere to go. His back hit the wall of the shack, and Mickey was trapped. Ian was too close. Looking all smug, smiling at Mickey like he had him right where he wanted him. “You know what I think?” Ian murmured, stepping closer still. “I think you’re jealous. Cuz I’m so free. Cuz no one or nothing holds me back.” Ian’s eyes traveled up and down Mickey’s body as if assessing all his flaws. 

“You don’t know shit about me.” Mickey whispered, his throat closing up. Ian is right, of course. And that makes this shit hurt all the more. 

He’s not gonna fucking cry, but Ian better get out of his face before he does something rash. 

“I’ve known guys like you my whole life.” Ian countered. “And methinks thou doth protest too much, dude. You know what they say about the most vehement homophobes, right?” Ian smirked, eyes dancing with white hot disdain. “You’re all closet cases. Just waiting for the right guy to turn you out...” 

Ian didn’t get to finish. 

Mickey shoved him. Mickey shoved him so hard, he went flying. He landed on the floor with a groan, donuts raining down all over him. 

“You don’t fucking know me.” Mickey growled, storming out of the shack and running to his car. 

Fuck this shit. 

He started his car and peeled out of the parking lot. Fuck Ian. And fuck Mac’s Hardware and everyone that works there. Fuck everything. 

Just goes to show how stupid Mickey is. Thinking he could have a single good thing in his life. 

*** 

“Jesus.” Leroy said, glancing at the empty parking lot where Mickey’s car was moments ago. “What the fuck?” 

“Um, Lee, go back up front. Watch the counter.” Tasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Lee nodded silently, leaving the shack without a word. Tasha then looked to Rob and Leroy. “Go out and clean up that mess the rainstorm made. There’s crushed stone all over the back lot. Sweep it up and get it back in its pen.” 

“Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?” Leroy asked, pointing at the sex toys in the drawer. 

“No.” Tasha shook her head. “We’re not. Because if we do, we’ll have to tell Mac that Mick threw Ian on the ground. And I’m not trying to get Mick fired.” Tasha turned to glare at Ian. “Unless that’s what you were going for?” 

“No!” Ian insisted. “I just wanted to end the war. I figured if I embarrassed him enough, he’d back off for good, I never thought...” 

Tasha put her hand up and Ian clamped his mouth shut. Shit, what had he done? He had no idea Mickey would react like that. His brother Lip had pulled the same exact prank on his roommate in college and they’d both laughed and forgot about it. 

“Leroy, Rob, please go do your job. And don’t say a damn word to Mac.” 

The men nodded, stepping out of the shack and leaving Ian alone with Tasha. 

“Ian, what the fuck?” Tasha said, seating herself in Mickey’s chair. 

“Tash, I had no fucking clue he’d react that way. We’ve been pranking each other for months. It was just an idea to embarrass him enough to finally get him to back off for good. I figured a homophobe like him would be so grossed out, he’d finally decide it wasn’t worth it.” 

Tasha laughed, but it was a sad sound. “God, you’re a real idiot.” 

“Huh? What are you talking about? I know, he seemed real pissed, but I won’t tell Mac. I don’t want to get the dude fired or anything.” the thought of Mickey getting in trouble because of Ian’s prank didn’t sit well with him. Especially after he already got sent home for the flyers. 

It was supposed to be a joke. 

“Ian, I don’t think Mickey will be coming back, whether or not Mac finds out about this.” Tasha replied, giving Ian a look he couldn’t decipher. 

“What do you mean?” Ian pressed. “I’m not even mad he pushed me. I probably had it coming. And if Mac never finds out, why can’t we just go on like it never happened?” 

“Ian, stop and think. What did you just say to him back there?” Tasha sounded like she was getting irritated now. 

Ian huffed, but thought back. What had he said to make Mickey so upset? 

Oh shit. 

He glanced at Tasha, eyes wide. No way. There’s no way. 

“Tasha?” 

Tasha just shook her head. “I don’t know for sure, Ian. I only know what I see when I’m with him. I never asked and he never offered. But when he first started here, I hit on him, like, all the time. He always told me he wasn’t looking to date or hook up, but I thought he was playing hard to get. Finally, he sat me down one day and said ‘look, I really like you, but please stop, it’s never gonna happen.’ and that was that, right? But then we started hanging out as friends. I got to know him better. He told me some of the stories about growing up.” she sighed, eyes sad. “He told me about his dad.” 

Ian nodded. He remembers. He knows all about Terry Milkovich. 

“Anyway, the more we hung out, the more I started noticing little things. Like, you’d probably never catch on if you weren’t really looking, but I can be kinda a creep sometimes.” she laughed. 

“Tasha, what are you talking about?” Ian huffed, totally over this whole conversation. Luckily for them, Lee hasn’t paged either of them to the front this whole time. 

“I don’t know for sure, cuz he’s never told me.” Tasha hedged. “But I’m pretty sure Mickey’s gay, Ian.” 

Ian laughed, incredulous. “No fucking way. Not after the way he acted.” 

“Ian, what did you just say ten fucking minutes ago? Self-hating gays, lashing out?” 

“Yeah, but that's just something we say to homophobes to piss them off. It's never really true! Nothing grosses them out more than the idea of being like us.” 

“Ian, I’ve worked with Mickey for years. I’ve gone out to bars and dance clubs with him. I’ve been to concerts and parties with Mickey. Girls throw themselves at him all the time, he never takes a single one home. You know who I’ve caught him checking out? Dudes. Never once have I seen him sneaking a look at a half-dressed girl. I’ve never called him out on it, cuz it’s his story to tell. But get a few drinks in him and he can’t help it. He is always checking out men, wherever we go. Rob and Leroy and Lee are not focused enough to see it. Mickey’s very good at hiding it. But I have a knack for shit like this. I’m telling you, Mickey’s gay.” 

Ian felt sick. He leaned heavily against the wall of the shack. “There’s no way.” he insisted. 

“I mean, I could be wrong.” Tasha shrugged. “But why else do you think he would lose it like that, run out of here?” 

Ian shook his head. “I just thought he was a prick like his dad.” 

Tasha gave Ian a small, sad smile. “Imagine what it would be like, growing up with Terry as your dad? What would it be like to be gay in that house? And you do know Terry just got paroled again, right? How do you think that feels?” 

“Tasha, you don’t know any of this is true.” Ian replied, nausea rolling in his stomach. 

“And you don’t know it’s not true.” 

“Shit.” Ian sighed, moving to collect the toys. He opened the big reusable bag he’d brought, shoveling the plugs and dildos and handcuffs into the bag. “What do I do now?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Tasha replied. “Go put that shit in your car, go back to work. If Mickey comes back, try talking to him for a change.” with that, she stomped out of the guard shack, leaving Ian with nothing but a bag full of sex toys and a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

*** 

Three days. 

Mickey had been gone from work for three days. 

When Ian asked Mac about it, he told Ian that Mickey was sick, and that he’d be back at some point. 

Ian wasn’t so sure about that. 

Ian felt awful. He'd gone home the day of the Dildo Incident and called Mandy right away. The conversation had gone...poorly. 

Mandy hadn’t outright said that Mickey was gay, but she’d insinuated that something real bad happened a few years ago with their dad, and Mickey may or may not have ended up in the hospital over questionable personal pleasure devices.

Ian felt even worse after that. Promising himself that the moment he saw Mickey at work, he was going to pull him aside and apologize. Try to make amends. Even if they could never be friends, they could at least be civil, and still work together. No one had to leave Mac’s. 

The saddest part of all of this is the fact that if Ian had any inkling that Mickey played for his team, he would have approached the other man in a totally different way. Ian’s been hostile and downright mean to Mickey this whole time. 

Sure, Mickey kind of started it, but Ian can understand why now. He could have stopped it then. They could have been friends, allies. Hell, they could have been more than that. 

Mickey is a great guy, when he’s not being a dick, and now that Ian knows the reasoning behind Mickey pushing him away, Ian understands. 

It doesn’t make it right, not at all. A grown up with good communication skills would have handled things differently. But Ian is just as guilty in this mess as Mickey is. 

And now Ian has accidentally outted Mickey to the whole crew at Mac’s, and probably the entire south side. Leroy is the worst gossip Ian’s ever met, and he won’t mean to spread Mickey’s little meltdown all over the south side, but he will anyway. 

What happens when Terry hears about it? 

Oh god, what has Ian done? 

It’s Friday, and Ian’s near the end of his shift. Tasha had reluctantly invited him over to her place to play Clue, but Ian could tell she was still mad at him over the sex toy prank. It would take time for her to get over it. 

It would probably help if Mickey came back to work, but Ian had no control over that. 

So Ian had politely declined her invitation, telling her he had something important to do. 

And he does. He’s going to go down to Boystown, to drown his sorrows and regrets in booze and sexy boys. Maybe if he gets his dick sucked by some hot young thing, it’ll take his mind of his monumental fuck up. 

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. 

*** 

“Mick, you can’t hide here forever.” Mandy said, sitting down on the edge of Mickey’s bed. She had Ruby cradled in her arms, gently petting over the black cat’s head as she glared at her brother. 

She has a point. 

He hasn’t left his apartment in days. Calling out of work like a god damn pussy. Too scared to face his coworkers, too much of a coward to show his face after his queer little meltdown. 

How hard was it? Just say ‘Yeah, I'm gay, so fucking what?’ 

Was he going to live in fear of his father for the rest of his life? Run away any time anyone got too close to the truth? Made him uncomfortable with their spot-on assumptions? 

God, this is not who he is. Not who he wants to be. 

So he huffed, throwing his covers back. Mandy smirked at him. “There you go. Go shower.” 

“Why? I don’t have anywhere to be.” Mickey countered, getting up anyway. He kinda did need a shower. 

“You’re taking me to Cherry Bomb tonight.” Mandy replied, waggling her eyebrows at him. 

“And why would I take you to a gay bar?” Mickey scoffed, grabbing a towel out of his laundry basket. 

“Two reasons.” Mandy smirked. “One: I can dance without getting my tits and ass grabbed, and two: you can get that sour look off your face by getting some ass of your own.” 

“I don’t need to be getting any ass.” Mickey grumbled. 

Mandy sighed, standing and moving over to her brother. “Listen, I know you’re still pissed Ian inadvertently outted you at work.” 

“He didn’t out me.” Mickey snapped. “No one believed him.” 

“Mick,” Mandy sighed, all sympathetic. “Even if his prank didn’t out you, your reaction kinda did.” 

Mickey grunted, shoving past his sister and making his way toward the bathroom. The hallway was short, and she was right on his heels. “Why’d you move back to Chicago anyway?” he asked, tossing a towel on the toilet lid. 

“You know, he called me.” Mandy said, leaning against the bathroom doorway, totally ignoring her brother’s snide comment. 

“Ian called you?” Mickey balked, turning away from his sister to start the shower. 

“Yeah, he wanted to make sure you were okay. Wanted to tell me what an idiot he’d been.” 

“Well, he’s not wrong there. He was a fucking idiot.” 

“He asked me if you were gay.” Mandy said, and Mickey’s heart stopped. 

“What did you tell him?” Mickey’s voice was softer than he’d like, making him sound as vulnerable as he felt. 

“Mick, I didn’t tell him, not really. But why do you insist on keeping this shit on lock?” 

“Mands, you know Dad’s out. You know what he did last time.” 

“You’re gonna let that fucker rule your life forever?” Mandy countered, growing irritated herself. 

Mickey sighed. Fuck. 

“No.” and he meant it to. He was done being scared of his old man. 

Maybe it was time he stopped living this lie. 

“Then clean the fuck up and take me dancing.” Mandy replied, smirking. She held Ruby in one arm, using the other to poker her brother in the chest. “You need to get out of the house, you’re starting to look like a Walking Dead reject." 

Mickey groaned, slamming the door in her face. He could hear her cackling on the other side as he stepped into the shower. 

God damn sister, turning him into a pushover. 

Whatever, a little bit of good dick would probably work wonders. 

*** 

Ian walked into Cherry Bomb, a gay club he’s never been to, but Mandy swears by. It’s funny to him, that she hasn’t change all that much since they were kids. She still likes to dance at gay clubs to avoid getting groped by drunk frat boys. 

But Mandy had told him that the music was great and the drinks were cheap, but not watered down. And if her opinion was anything to go by, the boys were beautiful here. 

Ian sauntered over to the bar, ordering a vodka martini like a giant snob. The bartender smirked at him, mixing his drink quickly and taking his money. Ian sipped his drink, eyeing the dance floor critically. The crowd was a little younger than he’d like, but as long as the guy was over eighteen, Ian was willing to give it a go. 

He sat at the bar and sipped his drink, eyes traveling over the crowd. He did a double take when he saw Mandy on the dance floor, grinding up on a huge dude in full drag. She had what looked like a strawberry daiquiri in her hand, laughing and smiling at the queen grinding on her. 

Ian smiled, finishing off his drink. He decided to go over and say hi. They’d been talking on the phone and messaging each other since he started at Mac’s, but hadn’t had the time to hang out. Hell, he hadn’t even known she was back in town until he called her. 

He hoped to never lose touch with her like that ever again. It may have been years, but Mandy was the same as ever, quick-witted, sarcastic, funny as hell. Ian had missed her. 

Mandy was an in-demand hair stylist these days, and a lot of her weekends were booked with high end events, some even out of state. 

She’s done well for herself, and Ian couldn’t be happier for her. 

Just as Ian is about to make his way across the dance floor, he sees Mandy shaking her ass, dangerously close to another dancer. His back is to Ian, but god is that a view. The guy is wearing a skin tight black t-shirt and equally sinful black pants. Ian can’t tell if they are jeans or slacks or some kind of leather, but holy shit, they make his ass look illicitly good. 

The guy is dancing with some huge dude, one of his legs shoved between the dude's tree-trunk sized thighs. It’s too dark to see the guy’s features, but he moves like liquid sin, and Ian just wants to curl up around his back and rub all up on him. 

Ian is so enamored with this guy's back and ass, he sighs in disappointment when he turns around to yell something over the music to...Mandy? 

What the fuck. 

Ian drops his empty drink on the bar and is crossing the dance floor before he makes a conscious decision to do so. He’s up next to Mandy and her brother, without a game plan. He has no idea what he’s going to say, but he’s overcome with the desperate need to make this right somehow. 

He is finally behind the siblings and their dance partners, but before he can say anything, Mandy notices him. 

“Shit!” she yelped, glancing at her brother. “Ian, what are you doing here?” 

At the sound of Ian’s name, Mickey turned with a sneer on his face. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” he growls, glaring at his sister. “You set this up?” 

“No!” Mandy promised, hands up. “I swear I didn’t.” 

Both Mandy and Mickey’s dance partners walk off, sporting twin looks of annoyance. Mickey watching his beefy blond walk away before turning back to Ian with fire in his eyes. 

“It’s not bad enough you ruin my job for me.” Mickey growled. “Not bad enough you outted me to the whole store. Not bad enough your big mouth will probably end up getting me killed when my dad hears about it. But no, you gotta roll up on my spot and ruin a perfectly good opportunity to get fucked. Thanks, Gallagher. At least you’re consistent.” Mickey fumed, shoulder checking Ian and storming off the dance floor. 

Ian watched him go, totally flabbergasted. 

What the fuck just happened? 

“Go after him, you jackass.” Mandy huffed, shoving Ian. 

Ian turned to his friend, bewildered. “I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Mandy shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now’s your chance, go fix it.” 

Ian stood frozen, unsure of what to do, until Mandy shoved him. “Fucking go!” 

Ian nodded, hustling out of the club and onto the street. He looked both ways, catching sight of Mickey toward the end of the block on the left-hand side. Ian started jogging after him, calling his name. 

“Mickey!” Ian yelled. “C’mon man! Hold up!” 

Mickey started walking faster, so Ian started running. Maybe it was a bad idea to chase after Mickey. Mickey'd been drinking, and Ian pregamed pretty hard before hitting the bar, so he’s tipsy too. It may be better to wait until they were both sober before Ian tried to reason with him. But they’re both here now, and Ian’s not sure he’ll get the chance again. 

It didn’t take him long to catch up to Mickey, grabbing his arm right at the crosswalk before the L station. 

Mickey jerked out of his grasp, rounding on him. “What the fuck are you following me for?” 

Ian threw his hands up, taking a step back. “I just wanted to talk.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Mickey groaned. “Don’t act like we’re suddenly friends or some shit. We clearly hate each other.” 

“Mickey, I don’t hate you.” Ian insisted, frowning. 

“Yeah, right.” Mickey scoffed. “You’ve done nothing but make my life hell since you started at Mac’s.” 

“You fucking started it!” Ian growled, getting angry all over again. 

“Did not!” Mickey shot back. “You’re the one who put vinegar in my beer. I had to walk all the way home, soaked down to my boxers, smelling like a fucking pickle!” 

“Yeah, cuz you were being a homophobic asshole.” Ian ground out. “I’m not gonna take that shit from anyone, especially not you.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mickey huffed, taking a threatening step closer. 

“It means...” Ian replied gruffly, taking his own step closer. “That you can’t just go around calling people fags and making snide comments about them wearing dresses and shit. It’s 2020 for fuck’s sake. Grow the hell up.” 

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Mickey scoffed. “You’re acting like some innocent victim in all this. Like you didn’t fucking stuff my desk at work with a fucking double-ended dildo. I mean, what the fuck, man?” Mickey was pissed off all over again. Like the past four days away from Ian hadn’t even happened. Like he’s standing back in that office, with all his shameful secrets on display again. “You can’t just...that’s not right.” 

Ian felt a pang in his chest, but he wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. Mickey had hurt him too. “I only did that shit so you would know what it felt like. You made me feel ashamed of who I am. I haven’t felt like that since I was fifteen. And it wasn’t right of you to do that. No one has a right to do that.” 

Mickey laughed, but it was a strained, painful sound. “You’re going to lecture me on that, really? You wanted to shame me? ME? Ian fucking Gallagher, with the batshit crazy, yet super supportive family? The guy who’s been out and proud since sophomore year in fucking high school? You want to talk to me about shame?” 

Ian gaped at Mickey, horrified to see tears in the other man’s eyes. “Mick...” 

“No.” Mickey said, voice low and hoarse. “Just don’t. You have no idea what my life’s been like. And it was finally getting better. Until you showed up.” God, Mickey may have had too much to drink. He’d never be running his mouth like this if he were sober. “Everything was fine. Even if my dad is back on the street. I had it under control, until you fucking ruined it all.” 

“Mickey, what are you talking about?” Ian sighed. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“No, of course not.” Mickey chuckled sadly. “You’re just you. And that's worse.” 

“What?” Ian can’t keep up with him. He has no idea what Mickey is talking about. Maybe he should go find Mandy, get Mickey home. 

“God, you really are fucking dense.” Mickey sighed, turning to walk away again. This time, Ian did grab him, curling his fingers around his bicep and pulling him back. Mickey spun around lightning fast, shoving Ian away with both hands. 

“I said don’t touch me!” 

“Mickey, please, can’t we just put this behind us? We still have to work together.” 

“Oh no.” Mickey shook his head roughly. “I’m not going back. I’m putting in my resignation on Monday.” 

“What?” Ian gasped. “You can’t do that.” 

“I can, and I will.” Mickey insisted. “I can’t work with you, Ian.” 

“Why not?” Ian pleaded. “I don’t understand.” 

Mickey pushed Ian again, knocking him back a few steps. “You’re fucking dangerous, that’s why not.” 

Ian sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t get you at all.” 

Mickey groaned, covering his face with one tattooed hand. He was gonna do it. He was gonna spill his guts to this ginger asshole. 

May as well walk down to Terry’s and just ask his dad to put a bullet in his brain. 

“You’re dangerous, Ian.” Mickey huffed, glaring at the red head. God, the fucker had no idea, did he? “I can’t be like you.” Mickey hissed, regretting this decision already. “I can’t just be whatever I want. It will get me killed. And I was fine with that. I was doing just fucking dandy. Working my shitty job, with my not-so-shitty friends. I see Mandy and Igg. I go out. Sometimes I even get laid, like I was gonna tonight before you fucked it all up.” 

Ian just gaped at Mickey. Yes, it was clear at this point that Mickey was gay. Ian has seen enough signs that not even he can miss. But he is still unclear on what all this has to do with Ian. “Sorry? I mean, I had no fucking clue I was gonna see you there. A fucking gay bar is the last place I expected to find Mickey Milkovich.” 

It just made it all so real. How clueless Ian had been. How much he’d fucked up. A stupid prank war had devolved into this. Mickey threatening to quit a job he liked, all because he couldn’t stand to be around Ian. 

Mickey just glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” Ian insisted, grimacing. He can’t imagine choosing to live a lie, but it’s Mickey’s decision. 

“Ian I’m not worried about you snitching.” Mickey huffed, grabbing his hair with both hands and pulling, hard enough that his eyes watered. “It’s not about the bar. Or work, or any of that shit. Are you even listening to me?” Mickey was losing patience. He needs to get the fuck out of here. “It’s YOU.” 

Ian looked like he was on the verge of tears, and didn’t that just hit Mickey right in the gut? “What? Why?” 

Mickey groaned, shaking his head. It’s like talking to a brick wall. “Because you have everything I want. Shit I can’t ever have. And seeing you just reminds me of that fact. And it sucks.” 

“Mick, I’m sure you could have anything you want.” Ian replied quietly, carefully taking a step closer. 

Mickey barked out a bitter laugh. “In what world, Gallagher?” 

Ian took another careful step forward, giving Mickey a small, tentative smile. “This one. Right here.” 

“My dad...” Mickey started, but Ian cut him off. 

“Mick, fuck your dad, honestly. I know that I don’t know him like you do, I know I have no idea what you went through, but if you keep living your life to please him, he wins. You see that, don’t you?” 

Mickey shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He was not going to cry on a fucking street corner, in the middle of an argument with Ian Gallagher. 

“It’s not that easy.” Mickey replied, voice soft. His traitorous mind bringing him back to that day. The day his father almost killed him. “You don’t get it. I can’t do it on my own.” 

“You’re not on your own.” Ian insisted carefully, finally closing the last bit of distance between them. He carefully rested his hand on Mickey’s bicep, preening internally when Mickey didn’t pull away. “You’ve got Mandy and Iggy. Tasha and Lee. Rob and Leroy, hell, even Mac loves you. He’s been talking about you all week.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Ian smiled, gently rubbing his hand up and down Mickey arm. “And you’ve got me, too. If you want.” 

Mickey looked down to wear Ian was still gripping his arm, then up into his eyes. Ian was smiling softly down at him. 

And just like that, all Mickey’s anger melted away. He was never really mad at Ian anyway. He was frustrated with his life, struggling to jump that final hurdle in the race to leave his father behind. And yeah, Ian had been a real dick, but the prank war was on both of them. It got out of hand. Really, really out of hand. They acted childish and unprofessional. And stupid. Real damn stupid. 

So what the fuck, why not try something different? Ian’s words ring in his ears, pounding through his chest with his heartbeat. 

‘you’ve got me too, if you want...’ 

“I do.” Mickey whispered, stepping into Ian’s space He looked up, locking eyes with the red head. “I want that.” 

Something’s happening here. Mickey can feel it, crackling between them like electricity. Maybe it’s been there all along, and they were both too stubborn to see it. But now, standing on the street, face to face with Ian Gallagher, Mickey has to admit it to himself. 

He wants Ian. 

And he thinks Ian wants him back. 

Well fuck. 

Ian beamed at him, totally unaware of Mickey’s realization, his whole face alight with happiness. “Good.” he said, leaning down slowly. 

Oh. 

Mickey grinned back. 

That settles that, it seems. 

Ian telegraphed every move, not wanting to scare Mickey off by being too aggressive, but Mickey just smirked at him, gripping him by the back of the neck and pulling him down into a bruising kiss. 

Ian choked a little bit, startled by Mickey’s vehemence, but caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist and pulling him flush against his body. Ian dragged one hand down Mickey’s back, resting it possessively on his hip, the other travelling up to tangle in his hair. Mickey hummed, flicking his tongue across Ian’s lips. Ian opened up for him gladly, finally getting a taste of Mickey. His tongue slipped into Ian’s mouth, hot and slick. He tasted like whiskey and smoke. 

Ian wanted more. 

This is probably a very bad idea. Ian knows they have more to talk about. Shit they should say to each other instead of hopping right into bed. But Ian’s pleasantly buzzed, and Mickey’s warm and willing against him. Ian prides himself on his strength of character, but in the face of a sweet and clingy Mickey Milkovich, he seems to be powerless. 

Ian groaned, pulling Mickey closer, but Mickey chuckled, lightly nipping Ian’s bottom lip before withdrawing. “I might be ready to tell my dad to fuck off, but a full-on make out session in the middle of the street may be a few steps down the road.” 

“Right.” Ian smiled sheepishly. He can feel the blush breaking out along his face and neck, but he’s powerless to stop it. “So....” What now? What just happened? Where do they go from here? 

“We could go to my place.” Mickey smirked, knocking his knuckles under Ian’s chin. Mickey was freaking out a little bit, but chose to hide his nerves with his standard Milkovich cockiness. 

“I said that all out loud, didn’t?” Ian groaned, his blush intensifying ten-fold. 

“Sure did, man.” Mickey laughed, smiling. God, he was really gorgeous when he smiled. “So, you game?” 

Ian’s glad that thought remained unsaid. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, that was rough. 
> 
> PSA: i did in fact find all these pranks on the internet. while it's all well and good to have some innocent fun at a friend's expense, it's always best to think before you prank. it's never funny to legitimately hurt someone's feelings.


	3. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey finally settle their differences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun. i needed a little levity in my life right now. i'd like to thank the #enemiestolovers challenge for the opportunity.

Mickey’s apartment isn’t anything special. It’s just three and a half rooms above a twenty-four-hour laundromat, which is convenient, but sometimes noisy. He leads Ian up the stairs, neither of them speaking. He unlocks the door and shoulders his way inside, flipping the light switch. He’s a tiny bit nervous about Ian seeing his living space, but it’s a little late now. 

Mickey kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket up on the little coat hooks by the hall closet. He can hear Ian following his example as he moves further into his apartment. 

On the right is his living room, moonlight filtering through the big turret window seat along the far wall. The couch sits between the breakfast bar and the rest of the living room, dividing the kitchen’s torn linoleum form the living room’s faded carpet. There’s a flat screen TV on the far wall. (not stolen, thank you very much) with a bookcase underneath, full of the horror and sci-fi books he’s fond of, along with his collection of Marvel comics. No one really knows how much of a nerd he can be, it’s a secret he guards with his life. 

Off the kitchen is the little half room Mickey doesn't really have a purpose for. He put a futon and a small chest of draws in there. It’s not a spare bedroom, but Iggy’s been known to crash at Mickey’s place when he’s trying to lay low. 

On the other side of the living room is a small, short hallway. On the left is his tiny bathroom, just a tub/shower combo, sink and a toilet. The vanity is covered in shit. Deodorant and his favorite cologne. The straight razor he likes to use, because it makes him feel like a bad ass gangster from the 30’s. He’s got one of those blood splatter shower curtains from Spencer’s, a gift from Mandy last Christmas. And all his towels are blood red too. 

His bedroom door is closed, but beyond it is just a bed and a dresser. A closet full of clothes and another TV. His laptop sits on his nightstand, taking up all the available space. He’s got some band posters, and some blown up Hubble telescope shots of galaxies and shit. Framed photos of his siblings and his mom, and one of his wanted posters from when he was still a teen menace. 

It’s not a lot, but it’s Mickey’s. And he’s fucking proud of himself for carving out a tiny spot in Chicago that is just his own. 

“Nice place.” Ian said from behind him as Mickey wanders into the kitchen. “Thanks.” he replied, opening the fridge. “You wanna beer?” 

“Sure.” 

Mickey grabs two of the weird microbrews Mandy brings over, pops the top with his Spiderman bottle opener and makes his way back to the living room. 

Ruby darts out from under the couch, launching herself at Ian. Ian yelped, jumping backwards, but Ruby just stood in front of him meowing. 

“Ruby, Ian. Ian, Ruby.” Mickey chuckled. 

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” Ian replied, bending over to scratch the kitty under her chin. Ruby purred quietly before turning her nose up at them and wandering down the hallway. 

“Yeah, I got her when I moved in.” Mickey replied, smiling slightly. “Gets kinda lonely around here. I was used to livin’ with so many people, y’know?” 

“I get that.” Ian laughed, nodding. 

Ian is seated on the couch, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He glances up when Mickey walks in, taking his bottle with a quiet ‘thanks’. 

Mickey sits down next to him, leaving a bit of space between them. He takes a long pull off his beer, letting the bubbly liquid settle him a little. Ian has put his bottle down. He's turned sideways on the couch, one knee tucked up under his elbow. He’s staring at Mickey with an odd look on his face. 

“What?” Mickey chuckled, feeling that traitorous blush creeping along his neck again. He’s never been a blusher. What the fuck is happening right now? 

“Nothing.” Ian sighed, dropping his foot and leaning against the back of the couch. “I guess maybe we should talk before....” 

“Before what?” Mickey goaded, smirking. 

“Mick, did you ask me up here to bang? Or are we gonna watch anime?” Ian replied, eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“Are those my only two options?” Mickey shot back. “And I have to say those two suggestions are oddly specific.” 

“Mickey.” Ian sighed, rolling his eyes. “I like you, okay? I have for a long time now. Even though you were a dick at work and made me feel like a dumbass on a daily basis. I think you’re funny and smart and sexy as fuck. But I don’t wanna do this if it’s gonna be some one-and-done weird shit that fucks up our working relationship. I may be new to Mac’s, but I like it there. I’d like for our animosity at work to stop, and I'd like to get to know you better. But I don’t know what you want.” 

Mickey took another long sip of his beer, pretty much chugging the whole bottle before dropping the empty on the coffee table with a clatter. 

Mickey huffed out a breath, trying to get his thoughts in order. Is he really gonna do this? This is why he brought Ian home, right? Is he ready to take this kind of risk? Is it worth it? 

He shakes his head, exasperated. This isn’t fucking rocket science. Sure, he’s never actually had this type of conversation with another man, but he’s not completely socially inept. 

He turns to face Ian, tucking both knees under his body and leaning up so he’s kind of hovering over Ian. Ian glances up at him, bottom lip pinched between his teeth. Mickey smiles, can’t help it. 

“So, that shit I said on the street? About wanting things I can’t have? This is the kind of thing I’m talking about. I don’t want to just fuck you, Ian. If I only wanted a dick in my ass, I woulda stayed at the club instead of coming home with you.” Mickey huffed. “I can get laid any time I like. I do get laid. That’s not what I’m scared of.” he sighed, glancing up at Ian. “I’m scared of all the other shit.” 

“Other shit.” Ian repeated quietly. “What? Like dating?” 

“Yeah.” Mickey gave Ian a sheepish smile. “Like dating.” 

“Oh.” Ian replied, a wide grin growing on his lips. “I’d like that.” 

“Me too.” Mickey sighed. “But that’s what I’m scared of.” Mickey blew out a slow breath, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you at work. It was a dick move. I was mad at the way you made me feel. Out of control and shit. I liked you, like, a lot. And I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I fell back on old habits.” Mickey huffed, angry with himself. He’s supposed to be better than this now. “I thought if I pissed you off enough, you’d hate me so much, you’d either steer clear of me, or quit. So, I’m sorry.” 

Ian nodded, running his hands up and down his thighs. He glanced over at Mickey with a small smile. “I’m sorry too. I reacted badly. I, uh, may have judged you on neighborhood gossip. I try not to do that, but when you were such an asshole, I kinda assumed it was cuz you were homophobic.” Ian grimaced, glancing shyly over at Mickey. 

Mickey was just gaping at him, then he smiled, a sad, rueful thing. “I get that, Ian.” he said, leaning in. “I know my rep around the hood, but just so you know, I don’t hate the gays. That would be pretty ridiculous, considering how much I love dick.” He was done talking. This whole night has been a shit show. Hell, his entire relationship with Ian thus far has been contentious and volatile. But all that’s done now. 

Mickey’s not sure if this is the best way to bury the hatchet, but fuck if he cares. He hopes things work out, hopes that he and Ian can move past this, maybe have something real between them. 

But, even if it all falls apart, he’s at least gonna get that dick. 

“That’s enough talking.” Mickey murmured, closing the distance between them, kissing Ian deeply.Mickey crowds Ian against the back of the couch. Hands on Ian's shoulders, he licks at his lips. Dipping his tongue into Ian’s mouth, he revels in the taste. God, Mickey’s getting addicted already. 

Mickey pulls back, smiling his softest, dopiest smile as he drinks in the sight of Ian spread out below him. 

Ian’s lips were swollen, bitten and red from all the nervous nibbling he’s been doing since sitting down. It makes him look debauched already. He’s all pink, blushing like crazy as Mickey blatantly checks him out. From his thick, strong arms, to his broad chest, stretching his t shirt obscenely. His waist is tiny, trailing down to slim hips and thick thighs. Mickey already knows he’s got a gorgeous ass, from all the inappropriate staring he does at work. 

And logic dictates that a body like that is accompanied by a glorious monster of a cock. 

Mickey is about to prove that theory right. 

He leans in, kissing Ian again. Ian sighs quietly, parting his lips for Mickey’s tongue. Mickey surges forward, crawling into Ian’s lap. Ian leans back against the couch cushions, his hands gravitating to Mickey’s ass as he spreads his legs over Ian’s thighs. Mickey’s jeans are painfully tight now, but he finds the idea of leaving Ian’s embrace is just too much. 

“God.” Ian groaned, flicking his tongue along Mickey’s bottom lip before nipping it gently. “We shoulda been doing this the whole time. Fuck the stupid prank war.” 

Mickey chuckled, drawing back with a smirk before burying his face in Ian’s neck. He dragged his tongue along the column of Ian’s throat, reveling in the choked moan that spilled from his mouth. Mickey groaned, rocking on Ian’s lap. He can feel the other man’s hard cock, throbbing under his ass. 

Finally, the layers are too much. Mickey needs to feel Ian, skin on skin. 

“Get up.” Mickey said, jumping up from Ian’s lap. “Clothes off.” He said, making his way toward his bedroom. “I’m gonna get my shit. You better be naked when I get back.” 

“Yes sir.” Ian chuckled, standing quickly and shucking his shirt. He threw it on the floor carelessly, grinning wickedly at Mickey’s gob smacked expression. Mickey was staring at his naked chest like it was the eighth wonder of the world. “See something you like?” 

Mickey huffed, entering his bedroom “Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.” he called over his shoulder. 

Ian chuckled, dropping his pants and underwear in a heap on the floor before dropping back onto the couch. Mickey didn’t say anything about going to bed, and that was fine by Ian. He could take Mickey just as hard on the couch. If the other man had an issue with letting Ian into his bedroom, Ian wasn’t going to press him. 

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. He lazily stroked his cock, trying not to think too hard about what he was about to do. 

Fucking Mickey before they really had a chance to get over the shit they did to each other was probably a bad idea. But Mickey was willing and ready, and Ian was too weak to deny him. 

Mickey stumbled back into the living room moments later, a condom in one hand and a half empty bottle of lube in the other. “Starting without me?” 

“Nah.” Ian smiled, “Just trying to relieve some of the pressure. C’mere.” Ian opened his arms and Mickey’s face broke out into a beatific smile as he settled himself back in Ian’s lap. Their cocks brushed and both men groaned. Mickey was blushing all the way down to his nipples. Ian’s never seen the man blush before, and it was the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Ian whispered, carding his fingers through Mickey’s hair. 

“Shut up.” Mickey muttered, handing Ian the lube. “I, uh, kinda prepped myself before I went out, so I don’t need much.” 

Ian groaned, taking the bottle from Mickey’s hand. “That is so fucking hot.” 

Mickey grinned, tucking his face into Ian’s neck and arching his back. “Can you reach?” 

Ian glanced over his shoulder and moaned. The curve of Mickey’s spine was delicious, the muscles in his back bunching and flexing as he gently rocked in Ian’s lap. “Yeah, Mick. I can reach.” Ian mumbled, uncapping the lube and slicking his fingers. He pulled Mickey close with his clean hand, nipping at his ear as he reached around, circling his fingers around Mickey’s hole. 

“Fuck.” Mickey whispered, arching his back further into the touch. It’s not like he never gets laid. He gets his dick wet plenty, but there is just something about Ian that makes his body buzz all over. “C’mon. Do it.” 

“Bossy.” Ian chuckled, sinking two fingers in easily. He groaned at the tight clutch of Mickey’s body, his dick throbbing eagerly between their stomachs. “Damn, you’re tight. Gonna feel so good on my cock.” 

“Hurry up then.” Mickey sighed, bringing their mouths together again. He kissed Ian hard, biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue as Ian fingered him open. It felt so good. Mickey’s body was on fire, desperate for Ian. He was so hard, leaking all over Ian’s belly. He rocked into the touch, too turned on to worry about looking desperate. 

Two fingers became three and Mickey was now writhing on Ian’s lap. “Enough.” he groaned. “Told you I was stretched.” 

Ian chuckled, pecking Mickey’s lips once more as he pulled his fingers free. “I know, just like feeling you.” 

Mickey groaned, nodding. “Yeah. Feels good. But this’ll feel better.” he ripped open the condom, leaning back on Ian’s thighs so he could slip the latex down his erection. Ian moaned, pinching his eyes shut. The sensation of Mickey’s callused fingers on his dick almost too much. Mickey slathered more lube along his dick, jerking it a few times, spreading the slick before crowding Ian against the back of the couch. He pressed the head of Ian’s dick against his stretched entrance, letting out a slow breath as he sunk down on it. “Oh...fuck.” 

“Yeah.” Ian choked out. His fingers dug into the meat of Mickey’s thighs, holding on for dear life as Mickey took him to the hilt in one tortuously slow slide. “Oh my god.” 

Mickey sighed, his eyes rolling back in his head. How in the fuck? Ian was massive. His cock stretched Mickey to his limit, the sharp edges of hot pain stinging his stretched rim. 

It was fucking perfect. 

“Jesus, Ian.” Mickey murmured, rising up a fraction before dropping his weight down hard. 

“Fuck!” Ian yelped, pleasure shooting up his spine. “Mickey. Holy hell.” 

Mickey hummed, unable to form words as he set a blistering pace right off the bat. He bounced on Ian’s cock, sputtering moans spilling from his lips as he rode Ian hard. 

Ian gasped for air, holding on for dear life. Mickey was riding him like it was his job, slamming his ass down over and over. The couch was creaking ominously with each downward thrust. Mickey threw his head back, his fingernails digging into Ian’s shoulders. Sweat gathered under his thighs and along their chests. Ian threaded his fingers through Mickey’s hair, dragging their faces together. Ian kissed him hard, using what little leverage he had to thrust up. “Mick. Mickey.” he babbled, unable to think beyond the heat of Mickey’s body, the feel of his muscles straining with each roll of his hips. 

“Oh god.” Mickey moaned, losing his rhythm. It’s been a while since he rode a dick this hard. “Ian, please.” he didn’t even know what he was begging for. 

“I got you.” Ian growled, the proceeded to grab Mickey by the waist and toss him onto the carpeted floor. Mickey whined when Ian’s dick slipped out of his body, yelping when his back hit the floor. He glared up at Ian, who was now towering over him. 

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” Mickey growled, moving to stand. He didn’t get the chance, however, as Ian dropped to his knees between Mickey’s spread thighs. He grabbed Mickey's legs, tossing them over his shoulders, before falling forward over his body. He wasted no time slipping back inside Mickey’s body with a rough thrust. Mickey cried out, head bouncing off the floor with the force of it. 

Mickey was bent in half at this angle. If Ian wasn’t pounding him into the floor, he might have been embarrassed. As it was, all he could do was hold on and moan. 

“You like that?” Ian growled, biting savagely at Mickey’s neck. His teeth ground into Mickey’s collarbone before traveling down to latch onto one hard nipple. 

Mickey screamed, back arching as his legs twitched by Ian’s ears. “Ian! Fuckfuckfuck.” 

“Yeah.” Ian moaned. “That’s it, Mick. Right there, huh?” he ground his cock into Mickey’s ass, pressing hard against his prostate as Mickey clenched around him hard enough to have him seeing stars. “Yeah, so good.” he babbled. “You were made for me. Made to take my cock. Look at you. So fucking sexy.” 

Mickey whimpered, wriggling on Ian’s dick. He had no leverage, nowhere to go. All he could do was lie there and take it. 

It was perfect. 

“Ian. God, Ian. Please, please.” Mickey was delirious with pleasure, totally unaware of what he was saying. 

“You’re fine. Gotchu.” Ian murmured back, leaning in to capture Mickey’s parted lips in a wild kiss. It was sloppy as fuck, all tongue and teeth. Ian had Mickey’s spit smeared all over his chin, and he loved it. “Perfect fucking ass, I swear.” 

Mickey could feel his whole body blushing. Reacting to the praise. He clenched down hard on Ian inside him, staring up at the man who was totally wrecking him. Ian was staring right back, with so much wonder and adoration, Mickey started to panic. 

No one looks at him like that. He doesn’t deserve it. 

“Switch.” he groaned, desperate for some distance, while still keeping Ian inside him. 

“Huh?” Ian replied, hips stilling. 

“Lemme turn around. Wanna take you like this.” Mickey murmured, avoiding Ian’s questioning gaze as he pushed Ian out of him and rolled over on the carpet. He got his knees under him, falling onto his elbows. He arched his back, displaying his open, sloppy ass like an offering. 

Ian moaned, gripping Mickey’s ass cheeks hard, pulling them apart to reveal his puffy, abused hole. “So pretty, Mick. Next time we do this, I gotta get my mouth on you.” 

“Oh fuck.” Mickey groaned, shuddering all over. “Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Next time.” Ian promised, kneeling behind Mickey and shoving back in without further preamble. 

‘Ugh.” Mickey groaned, burying his face in his bent arms as Ian pounded into him from behind. He was going to have rug burn all over his elbows and knees, but it was so worth it. 

“That’s it, Mick. Fucking take it.” Ian growled, his fingernails biting into Mickey’s hips as he thrusted more and more violently. Mickey was inching up the rug toward the couch. He pressed a hand against the sofa to stop himself and Ian didn’t even notice, just kept riding his ass like it had personally wronged him. 

“Ian, fucking hell.” Mickey whined, gripping his own leaking cock. He didn’t even have to jerk it, just held on tight and let Ian’s momentum do the work. Mickey could tell Ian was getting close, his thrusts got shorter and harder, pounding into him until he felt like his insides were gonna bruise. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck me so good. Gonna come.” he barely got the sentence out, and he was coming all over the carpet, his body wracked with pleasure as his vision whited out. He collapsed on the rug, only vaguely aware of Ian still reaming his ass. 

Then, Ian groaned loud enough to shake the walls, stilling deep inside Mickey’s body as he shook through his own release. 

Ian collapsed against Mickey’s back, sending them both to the floor in an undignified heap. 

“Ohmygod.” Ian murmured into the sweaty skin of Mickey’s neck. 

“Get off.” Mickey grumbled. “Heavy.” 

Ian chuckled, gripping his dick at the base and rolling off Mickey’s back. He landed on the floor next to him, breathing heavy as he tried to get his heartbeat under control. 

“That was...” Ian started, then shook his head, standing from the floor and disappearing into the bathroom without another word. 

Mickey pushed himself up off the rug, getting his knees under him before turning and collapsing back on his bare, sore ass. 

What the hell just happened? 

Before he could wonder too hard about it, Ian was back, looming over him in all his naked glory. He was gorgeous, of course, but all that beauty was diminished by the nervous, uncertain look on his face. Seems all it takes is thirty seconds post-orgasm to have Ian second guessing himself. 

Well, that just won’t do. 

Mickey stood with a little difficultly, staggering a bit until Ian reached out and steadied him. 

“Um.” Ian said, stepping back a little. He eyed his clothes, in a pile on the floor, then glanced back at Mickey, a question clearly in his eyes. 

“C’mon.” Mickey sighed, gripping Ian by the wrist and dragging him toward his bedroom. “You wanna stay over.” 

“I do?” Ian replied, aiming the smuggest grin in history at Mickey as he crowed him against the hallway wall. 

So much for Ian being unsure. 

“Fuck off.” Mickey sighed, shoving Ian away halfheartedly. “You wanna go? The door’s right there.” he motioned tiredly over his shoulder as he made his way toward his bedroom. 

Ian was right behind him, of course. “No, no. I wanna stay.” 

Mickey didn’t say anything else as he turned down the bed and crawled in. His phone was still in the living room, but he didn’t care. No one important was gonna call him in the next twelve hours. He laid his head on his pillow with a tired groan. 

Ian was still hovering at the edge of the bed, looking unsure. Mickey rolled his eyes, patting the empty side of the bed. 

“C’mon, man. It’s late.” 

Ian huffed, almost wincing as he crawled in beside Mickey. Mickey threw the blanket over Ian’s lap, pulling him down amidst the pillows and blankets. “Sleep now.” 

Ian chuckled, wriggling down into the bed, pulling the covers up as Mickey latched onto his body like a clingy kola. 

“We need to talk.” Ian said as Mickey cautiously curled around his body. Ian could feel the tension radiating off his lover as he wrapped his arm around Ian’s chest and plastered their bodies together. 

“In the morning.” Mickey countered, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s bare chest. 

“Okay.” Ian sighed, running his fingers through Mickey’s sweaty hair, placing a tender kiss on the crown of his head. “In the morning.” 

Silence descended on them. Two men who had been enemies mere hours before, clung to each other as they dropped into unconsciousness. 

Neither man had ever slept so well. 

*** 

“I’m sorry.” Ian whispered into Mickey’s shoulder. They’d spent the night tangled together, legs twined, hands grasping. Some time around two a.m., they’d exchanged lazy blowjobs and promises for the future. Ian knows it’s all so sudden, all so crazy and new, but it feels right. 

But now, in the soft glow of mid-morning, Ian’s worried. That this was all too fast, that they skipped the part where they reconciled their differences, and went straight to fucking. 

Did Ian screw this up? Did he ruin it before it even had a chance to grow legs? 

“Hm?” Mickey mumbled, curling further into Ian’s chest. His arms were locked around Ian’s middle, his breath fanning over Ian’s pecs, slow and steady. “What time is it?” 

Ian looked out the window, shrugging. “Dunno, some time after ten, maybe?” 

“Too early.” Mickey groaned, squeezing Ian’s body tightly against his own. “Why’re you sorry?” 

Ian huffed, rolling over so they were face to face. Mickey peeled his eyes open, blinking up at Ian with a small, tired smile. His face was pink, puffy around the eyes. He had lines on his face from his pillow and his hair was a wild mess. 

He looked gorgeous. 

Ian sighed, running the tip of one finger along Mickey’s plump bottom lip. “I just hate how this whole thing started. At work.” 

Mickey huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re gonna talk about that now, huh?” 

Ian sighed, disentangling himself from Mickey and sitting up. Mickey sat up too, scooting back a bit and folding his legs under him. Ian seemed like he had a lot going on in his head, and Mickey didn’t want to crowd him while he figured it out. 

“Listen, Mick.” Ian started, running his fingers through his messy red hair. “I just wanted to say, I’m really, really sorry for the prank war.” 

“I mean, we both kinda went off the deep end.” Mickey grimaced, thinking back on all the shit they pulled on each other. “Y’do know that wasn’t my car right? With the cling wrap? That was Iggy’s car.” 

“Oh shit, no way?” 

“Yeah, man. He made me pay for that shitbox to get detailed, so you can pay me back the thirty bucks for that if you really wanna make amends.” 

Ian grinned, but sobered quickly. 

“Yeah, but I really crossed a line with the sex toys.” Ian replied, wincing at the memory. “I really had no idea you were gay at the time, and it was wrong of me to do that. So fucking unprofessional, and I put you in an incredibly awkward position. And everyone was there to see it, and I'm just so fucking sorry.” 

Mickey nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Yeah, the sex toy prank really fucked him up. But that was less about Ian and the prank war, and more about himself. His own hang-ups he’s been unable to let go of. 

“I’m not mad.” Mickey replied. And he meant it. “Not anymore.” 

When Ian just gave him an incredulous look, Mickey laughed. “No, really. I mean, yeah, at the time it felt like my life was falling apart, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. I’m not hiding anymore. I don’t WANT to hide. You were right earlier, when you said fuck my dad. Terry is a piece of shit, and I don’t want to let him decide my life for me anymore. So, if you think about it, this prank war and the fallout has been a good thing. It finally gave me the balls to quit being a little bitch. I’m done pretending to be something I’m not. At Mac’s and in my life. I am so tired. I just wanna be me.” 

“Damn, Mick.” Ian chuckled, smiling. “Is there a place for me in this brand new life of yours?” 

Mickey laughed, grabbing a pillow and smacking Ian across the face with it. Ian gaped at him, before tackling him to the bed. Mickey grinned up at him, cupping him around the back of the neck and pulling him down until he could rest their foreheads together. “What did I say about asking stupid fucking questions?” 

Ian beamed down at him, before capturing his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Lemme take you out to dinner.” Ian mumbled, nibbling on Mickey’s bottom lip. 

“Only if you do one thing for me.” Mickey replied, licking into Ian’s mouth languidly. 

“Name it.” 

“One more prank.” 

*** 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ian asked, eyeing Mac’s warily. 

Mickey chuckled, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “You better fucking believe it’s a good idea.” 

“I dunno.” Ian replied, slamming his car door. “What if we get in trouble? Again?” 

Mickey smiled, glancing around the parking lot before stepping into Ian’s space. Once he knew the coast was clear, he laid his hands on Ian’s hips, dragging their bodies together. “Ian, relax. It’s gonna be awesome.” 

Ian sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “If you say so.” 

The rest of the weekend had been a whirlwind of amazing sex and deep conversation. Ian was thrilled when Mickey said he’d like to try dating. Just the two of them, getting to know each other. Ian had deleted Grindr off his phone the second Mickey agreed to be exclusive. 

He didn’t want anyone else, as long as Mickey was willing to put up with him. 

Ian had even told him about his Bipolar. Not all the dark, awful details, but enough for Mickey to see him, really see him. And Mickey didn’t laugh or cringe. He listened, asking questions and engaging Ian in a way no one’s ever really done. He even bookmarked some mental health websites on his tablet, assuring Ian he wanted to know all he could. 

He wanted to help. 

Ian had cried then, like a big baby. But it had been so long since anyone had really wanted to help Ian, really wanted to see him as he is, scars and all. 

In return, Mickey opened up to Ian in a way Ian never expected. 

He explained his whole convoluted reasoning behind his part in the prank war. The reasons he was so terrified, the things his father had put him through. His desperation to keep his distance, the fear and longing that Ian instilled in him. Hearing himself say it all out loud made him feel like even more of a dumbass. 

All of this could have been avoided, if Mickey had only used his words. 

And now he’s quoting his sister in his head. Wonderful. 

The weekend was over sooner than either of them liked, and now they were both standing by their cars in the parking lot of Mac’s, ready to pull the final prank of the Great Mac’s Prank War of 2020. 

Only this time, they wouldn’t be pranking each other. 

“You got the stuff?” Ian asked, moving toward the front entrance while Mickey swung around toward the yard entrance. 

“Yeah. You got yours?” 

“I do.” Ian replied, shaking his own backpack. 

Mickey grinned, nodding. “Okay, see you at break time.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

*** 

“You need to apologize, Ian.” Tasha said, sipping on her latte. She just got back from Lilian’s Café with coffee and donuts for everyone. The afternoon shift kids are in early, since today is inventory day. Ian doesn’t know them all that well, since he’s usually tearing out of the parking lot right at three p.m. to make it to his digital design class at Malcolm X at 3:30. Beth and James are good kids, working part time to save money for college. 

They are watching the front end while the rest of the day crew has their break together. 

Leroy and Rob come sauntering in, making a bee line for the open donut box. Ian can’t help but think of the last time they were all together in the break room. 

How awfully it had all ended. 

Then, he smiles, waving off her concern. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t worry about it?” Tasha replied, crossing her arms over her chest. She leaned back in her chair, glaring up at Ian. “Ian, you outted Mickey to all of us. Before he was ready.” 

Leroy and Rob exchanged a wary glance, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. 

“Tasha...” Ian started, but she put a hand up, silencing him. If only Ian could tell her right now, but he and Mickey had a plan. 

“No, Ian.” Tasha insisted. “Do you have any idea how long it took us to get Mickey to even consider us friends?” 

“She’s right.” Rob added, surprising Ian. Rob and Leroy have both been uncharacteristically quiet all day. “I mean, I had no idea, but Mick’s reaction to the sex toys was ...well. It was obvious after that. And I feel real bad for laughing. He’s gonna hate us all now. And it took forever to even get him to go out for drinks with us.” 

“What if he really quits?” Leroy asked, shredding his donut into tiny crumbs. “That’ll be our fault, right?” 

“It’ll be Ian’s fault.” Tasha replied, still glaring. 

God, Ian is sweating now. His coworkers are really pissed at him. 

“Tasha, come on.” Rob replied, pushing his coffee away. “Don’t act like it was all on Ian. Yeah, that last prank crossed a line, but Mickey was just as much part of the prank war as Ian was. Hell, I helped him make those stripper fliers. That was fucked up.” he looked over at Ian, shamefaced. “I’m sorry, that was, just wrong of us. We shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ian grimaced. Yeah, that was pretty shitty. “It’s whatever.” 

“You say ‘it’s whatever’ like it doesn’t even matter. And I get that the Mick was a dick too, but he said he was gonna leave his job over this.” Tasha insisted. “And if Mickey really quits, that’s on you. And all of us for letting it go on like this. God, we’re supposed to be adults. I really should tell Mac, make us all go through some serious sensitivity training.” 

“But, Tasha, Ian’s gay too. How can he need fucking sensitivity training?” Leroy asked, confused. 

Tasha rolled her eyes at Leroy before once again glaring at Ian. “He should know better.” she insisted. “Ian knows what it’s like, and he outted Mickey anyway.” 

“To be fair.” Ian replied, turning his sour expression on Tasha. “I had no idea Mickey was in the closet. How was I supposed to know? Do you think being gay gives me fool proof gaydar or some shit? Yes, the prank war went too far, but like Rob said, Mickey was just as bad. And back when I knew him in high school, he was a real asshole. Total homophobe. How was I supposed to know he was the self-hating kind? Just because he ended up hurt in the end doesn’t mean he’s innocent in all of this.” 

Ian was in fact, quoting Mickey to them right now. These are the things they’d discussed over the weekend, each apologizing and taking blame when necessary. 

Of course, these people didn’t know any of that. Not yet. 

Tasha glowered at him, and for the first time since starting at Mac’s six months ago, Ian felt like an outsider. He felt the full weight of the prank war, and the damage it had done. Yes, he and Mickey worked it out, and Ian was hopeful for the future of their relationship, whatever that looked like. But he hadn’t really stopped to consider how his coworkers, his friends, would react to it all. 

He was clearly in the dog house, and he was suddenly very worried about the friendships he’d formed with these people. 

Ian huffed out a heavy breath, choosing not to speak any further. Yeah, it was a shit show right now. 

But it’s gonna get a lot better in a minute. 

Tasha and Leroy sat down next to him. Tasha had her phone in one hand, and a coffee in the other. Rob lumbered over, grabbing a cruller from the box and dropping down heavily next to Leroy. “Beth is a genius with marketing. She’s got this Facebook giveaway going in the paint section right now. Got us like, a hundred likes in an hour.” 

Ian smiled, nodding. Beth was a smart kid. She’s gonna do well in college next year. “How’s James doing at the front? No more problems with the discounts?” 

“Hell if I know.” Leroy laughed. “Do I look like a cashier to you?” he leaned back, displaying his coveralls and work gloves. 

“Point taken.” Ian chuckled, making a mental note to check on James after break was over. He didn’t need the kid having a breakdown because no one showed him how to discount sale items. 

Just then, the door swung open and Mickey walked in. The room went silent, everyone glancing between Ian and Mickey warily. 

Ian and Mickey had made a point to ignore each other all day, really play up the animosity between them. Tasha has been on both their asses all day to make amends, but they had both played it off like they were still too mad to concede. 

Ian bit his lip to keep his laughter in. This was going to be hilarious. Hopefully, after all this was done, the anger between the crew would be forgotten. 

“Who’s donuts are these?” Mickey asked, breaking the tension in the room. He dropped down in the lone empty chair at the table, drumming his fingers on the lacquered top. 

No one said a word. Ian’s not sure any of them are even breathing. He chances a glance at Mickey, who’s doing a very convincing scowl in his direction. 

“Mine.” Ian bites out, aiming his best murder-glare at his new lover. “Back the fuck off, Milkovich.” 

Tasha sighed, shooting Ian a death glare, obviously angry he hadn’t taken her advice to bury the hatchet. 

Mickey stood, sending his chair flying. Ian rose as well, eyes hard, lips drawn into a menacing grimace. 

Tasha gasped, jumping up from the table. Rob and Leroy followed suit, pushing their chairs back and jumping up, ready to restrain Ian and Mickey. 

Ian sucked in a deep breath, wanting to make this good for his....his what? Not his boyfriend, not yet. 

His Mickey. 

Yeah. His Mickey. 

This was the end of the prank war. His Mickey wanted it just so, and Ian had to deliver. 

“I want a Boston crème.” Mickey bit out, making a grab for the donut in question. Ian slapped his hand away. 

“Hands off my donuts, you asshole.” Ian growled, crowding Mickey. Their chests were pressed together, and Ian had to concentrate really hard not to kiss him right then. 

“Get outta my face, ginger queer boy.” Mickey spat, shoving Ian with both hands. Ian hit the far wall of the shack with a grunt, immediately jumping back into Mickey’s space. 

Their coworkers looked like they were about to puke. 

“Mickey.” Tasha said, voice low and careful. “You can’t say that to him.” 

“Oh no!” Ian yelled, pressing his chest right to Mickey’s. “Let him. I don’t mind.” 

“Ian, man, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Leroy said, laying a careful hand on Mickey’s bicep. “C’mon, Mickey, let’s go outside for a second.” 

“No!” Mickey barked, throwing Leroy off him. “I’m gonna finish this shit right now.” he grabbed Ian by the collar of his Mac’s Hardware polo shirt, dragging Ian face to face. “Got something you wanna say to me?” he growled, shaking Ian back and forth. 

“Mickey, please.” Tasha cried, clinging to Leroy as they slid down the wall to the floor. “You’re gonna get fired.” 

“He won’t get fired.” Ian insisted, his own hands fisting Mickey’s work shirt. “He won’t be around to get fired.” 

Tasha screamed, tucking her face into Leroy’s chest. “Please, guys, stop.” 

“I’m not stopping ‘til this is done.” Mickey declared, raising his fist. “Fuck you, Gallagher, this is the end of this shit.” 

Their coworkers ducked under the table, crawling into a safe space together in fear while Ian screamed. “You think you can take me?” 

“You know I can, dick.” Mickey retorted, smiling evilly. “Bring it, bitch.” 

Tasha clamped her hands down over her head, letting Rob and Leroy cuddle up next to her. Whatever was happening between Ian and Mickey, they weren’t part of it. 

They weren't. It's not her fault. 

“You’re so dead.” Ian cried. Tasha pinched her eyes shut, praying they didn’t trash the whole break room with their brawl. 

When all she was greeted with was the sound of silence, she reluctantly peeled her eyes open. 

“What the fuck?” Leroy gasped, crawling out from under the table. He looked at Ian and Mickey, then back to his friends. “What is this shit?” 

Rob laughed, shaking his head. He pointed at Ian and Mickey, who were locked in a frankly indecent kiss. “We got played, Roy...” 

Mickey chuckled, grinning against Ian’s lips. He grunted in surprise when Ian hooked his hands under Mickey’s thighs, hefting him up like he weighed nothing. Mickey hitched his legs around Ian’s middle, letting the other man take his weight. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Tasha groaned, hands on her hips. “I’ve been on you two to make amends for months. This whole thing has been a clusterfuck, and now you’re just gonna make out like nothing happened? What am I missing?” 

Ian sighed, licking into Mickey’s mouth. Mickey kissed back eagerly, willing to ignore their coworkers until break was over. But Ian had other ideas, playfully nipping at Mickey’s bottom lip before gently letting him down. Mickey straightened out his work shirt, clearing his throat as he tried to temper down his arousal. 

“What?” Mickey chuckled, shooting Tasha a wink. “You told us to work out our differences. I thought you’d be happy.” 

Tasha huffed, clearly confused. Rob and Leroy weren’t any better, glancing between Ian and Mickey like they’d both gone crazy. 

“You both owe us a serious explanation!” Tasha insisted. “When did this happen? How? Why....what about the pranks? Was it all a lie?” 

“No, no.” Ian shook his head, leaning into Mickey’s space. Mickey curled his arm around Ian’s middle, keeping him close. “We’ll explain it all tonight. We’re still all going for drinks, yeah?” 

Tasha scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Well, yeah. And here I was stressing about having to lie to Mickey about going. You two had me feeling like a child of divorce. Picking sides and sneaking around. Not nice.” 

Mickey laughed, reaching for his backpack. “Well, you guys were just as bad as us. Don’t forget you just admitted that. But it’s over now.” he dropped his backpack on the table, pulling two plastic guns from the pouch. “The Great Mac’s Prank War of 2020 is over.” 

“Well, who won?” Leroy asked, trying to mentally calculate the victor is this bizarre fight. Who wins if the enemies end up swapping spit? “And what’s up with those toy guns?” He glanced at Rob, who just shrugged. 

“I mean...” Ian replied, reaching out for Mickey’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I think we both won.” 

Mickey chuckled, nodding. He darted forward quickly, pecking Ian’s lips. Damn, this not hiding shit had all kinds of perks. If only he can keep up this bravado when Terry finds out. 

One thing at a time, though. 

“We sure as fuck did win.” Mickey grinned at Ian before glancing at their coworkers, all staring at them with varying levels of incredulity. “And that makes you dumbasses the losers. Light ‘em up, Gallagher.” with that, Mickey and Ian raised their guns and completely doused their friends in Silly String. 

The red and blue strings shot out of the boys’ guns, draping their friends and the entire break room in colorful threads of polymer resin. They sprayed and sprayed until both guns were empty. The table and fridge and microwave were all covered in delicate webs of blue and red. Tasha was on the floor, body curled protectively around herself, while Rob and Leroy were both standing, backs pressed against the far wall. All three of them were covered, head to toe in a heavy layer of multicolored strings. 

It was hilarious. 

Mickey grabbed his phone from his pocket, snapping a multitude of pictures, making sure to capture the shocked expressions on his coworkers faces. 

“Mick! What the fuck?” Leroy barked, shaking his head, sending silly string flying in all directions. Rob’s face was the picture of confusion. 

Tasha uncurled from her protective ball, shaking her hair out as she struggled to her feet before charging Ian and Mickey. She growled, balling up her fists and slamming both men in the chest as Rob lost his shit laughing. 

“You guys have a lot of explaining to do.” Tasha grumbled, finally tiring herself out. She fell against the two men, and they held her, hugging her close between them. “You guys are dicks. You deserve each other.” 

“So that’s it?” Leroy asked, wiping some string off his coveralls. "Prank war’s over?" 

“Yeah.” Ian grinned, letting go of Tasha to pull Mickey to his chest. “It’s done. We're moving on.” 

“Thank fuck.” Tasha said, rolling her eyes. Dramatic gay boys are going to be the death of her. “Who’s gonna pick this shit up?” she asked, motioning toward the giant mess they'd made in the break room. 

“Eh, send the part-timers in to do it.” Mickey shrugged. 

“We will do no such thing.” Ian insisted, grabbing Mickey by the wrist and pulling him to the center of the room. “The rest of you go back to work, Mick and I will clean up our own mess.” 

Tasha giggled. “Sure thing, just don’t do anything R rated in here. I eat lunch at that table.” 

“Just go back to work, you pervert.” Mickey grumbled, scooping up some red string and tossing it in the trash bin Ian brought over. 

Tasha grinned at them before grabbing Leroy and Rob and heading back toward the store. “And just so you know, we’re all glad you two got over that shit. Way to make work awkward for all of us.” 

Leroy looked down at the two men on the floor, grinning at each other like teenagers as they worked to clean the break room. “If you think them being boyfriends is gonna make shit any less awkward, you’re crazy. Look at them, all heart eyes and shit. We’re gonna be living a romance novel for eight hours a day.” 

“Jealousy is not a good look on you, Roy.” Ian grinned, leaning over to plant a kiss on Mickey’s blushing cheek. 

“This is what I’m talking about!” Leroy insisted. “Don’t let my girl see them, Robbie. She’ll be on my ass to be more romantic and shit.” 

“Man, you’re lucky you have a girl at all with that attitude.” Rob grumbled, leading Leroy out of the room. “Take your time guys, glad you worked it all out.” 

“Karoke, Friday. All of us.” Tasha added, jabbing a finger at the men on her way out the door. “Be there or I'll cut you both.” with that, the three of them went back to work, leaving Ian and Mickey to clean up their mess alone. 

“I think that went well.” Ian said, scooping up some string off the top of the fridge and flicking it into the trash. 

“Yeah, well, it’s easy when it our friends. They’re more pissed about us turning the store into our own personal revenge party than they are about us being queer, and...together.” 

“You’re worried about the neighborhood?” Ian asked, sliding some slime off the table and into his hand. 

“No.” Mickey huffed, using paper towels to clean off the top of the microwave. 

“Your dad.” Ian replied lowly. Yeah, he’d thought of that too. 

“I’m not scared.” Mickey insisted. “And I’m not ashamed. I’m just saying, it’s easy to tell people this shit when you know they’ll be supportive. It’s another thing when it could get you hurt.” 

“We don’t need to tell everyone.” Ian replied, even as his heart sank. He hated being a secret. He’d done it in high school and promised himself he’d never do it again. But if that’s what Mickey needed, for the time being, Ian could give him that. Not forever, but for a while. 

“Fuck that. Yeah we do.” Mickey retorted, plucking the last bit of Silly String off the coffee maker. “I’m in this, Ian. As long as you’ve got my back, I'm ready for whatever comes my way.” And Mickey meant it, even if the threat was very real, he was ready. He didn’t want to hide Ian. Even if this was new, Mickey wanted Ian to know he wasn’t ashamed of him. 

Ian beamed at him, sending Mickey’s heart into overdrive. Ian crowded him against the table, resting his hands on Mickey’s hips. “I’ve got your back, Mick. Promise.” 

Mickey grinned back, curling his arms around Ian’s neck. Ian pressed their bodies tightly together, leaning down. Mickey met him in the middle for a sweet kiss that quickly devolved into a mess of teeth and tongue. Ian was about to pick Mickey up and drop him on the table when the door swung open, the handle connecting loudly with the far wall. The boys separated like startled birds, eyes shooting to the open door. 

Where Mac stood, arms crossed over his chest. 

Mickey gulped, his face breaking out in a hot blush. Ian had not stepped away, he was still standing between Mickey’s spread thighs, his hands still pressed tightly to his hips. 

“This is not what I pay you for.” Mac said, pointing at the two men. 

“Mac, I can explain...” Mickey started, but Mac silenced him, holding up one hand. 

“No need.” Mac replied. 

Ian couldn’t get a read on his boss. His body language was cold, but there was a strange gleam in his eyes Ian couldn’t interpret. 

“Mac, really, we’re just...” Ian tried, but Mac just talked over him. 

“You know, you kids think you’re so slick. Think you’re always getting over on us older folks. But guess what? Whatever you’re doing, we did it already.” 

“Mac, I’m not quite sure I understand.” Ian said, finally stepping away from Mickey. Mickey stepped away from the table, but kept a safe distance between himself and Ian. 

Mac seemed content to ignore Ian’s words, just kept talking like he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“I’ve watched the two of you for the past six months.” Mac said, and he was actually smiling now. “I let it go on, even though it was unprofessional. It was clear to me that it was some kind of childish courting ritual, even if you two were too dumb to see it.” 

“Courting ritual?” Mickey echoed, confused. 

“Yeah, like, when a boy likes a girl on the playground, so he pulls her hair. That’s you two.” 

Ian huffed, blushing. “No, Mac. Not at all.” 

Mac just laughed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, kiddo. But I know what I saw. You two flirt in the strangest way. But now that you’ve seemed to have gotten your act together, can you promise me no more pranks on company time?” 

“Yes, Mac.” the men replied in unison. 

“Good. Thank you.” Mac smiled. “I have to say, though, even if no one else saw it coming, I’m glad it turned out the way I anticipated.” their boss was smirking at them as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “As it is, your little mating dance has been good for business.” 

“What?” Mickey gasped, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. What had Mac done? 

Mac was still smirking like an asshole as he handed over his phone, cued up to Instagram of all things. “Have a look.” 

Mickey took the phone, Ian leaning over his shoulder. They both burst out laughing at the page. 

It was all their pranks. The thumbtack and the shrink wrap. All Ian’s office supplies encased in Jello. The condom car prank, even the flyers, with the phone number blacked out. Every single prank they’d pulled on each other, right there on the internet for the whole world to see. Along with the caption ‘Having fun at work is not against the rules. Come enjoy the friendly pranks along with amazing deals at Mac’s Hardware.’ 

“Mac, I had no idea you even knew about the prank war.” Ian replied, still shocked by his boss’s antics. 

“I know a lot more than you young people think I do.” Mac chuckled. “Now get back to work. And let me know the next time you plan a prank, I got followers now.” 

Ian and Mickey watched Mac wander out of the break room, both still a little off kilter by their boss’s declaration. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “Mac used us to build an internet following? And he’s getting business from it?” 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. “The old man has a head for business. Hell, maybe we’ll both get a raise out of this who debacle.” 

Mickey hummed, crowding Ian against the table. He gripped his hips tightly, tilting his head up to lock eyes with the red head. Mickey darted up, kissing Ian fiercely before mumbling against his lips. “I don’t think a raise would the best thing to come out of all this.” 

Ian chuckled, plunging his tongue into Mickey’s mouth. “You may have a point there...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna be real with you guys. i'm depressed. this is nothing new for me, but the intensity of it is troubling. writing is like pulling teeth, and that only adds to my angst. ugh. anyway. thanks for coming around, i hope you enjoyed the end.

**Author's Note:**

> i can't tell you how much trouble this little story has given me. i don't know why, it just fought me every step of the way. i hope it's still up to snuff. please forgive me if i missed the mark.


End file.
